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THE ADVENTURES OF 
A WOMAN HOBO 

EIllEL LYNN, M.D. 



THE 

ADVENTURES 

OF A 

WOMAN HOBO 

BY 

ETHEL LYNN, M.D. 




NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



'lis 



COPYRIGHT, 1917, 
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



M -7 1^7 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

©aA462879 



ONE 

April i8tk^ igo8, 
Chicago, Illinois 



THE ADVENTURES OF A 
WOMAN HOBO 



ONE 



April i8^ igo8. Chicago^ Illinois. 

DOCTOR LYNN, you are in the incipient 
stage of tuberculosis. You should return to 
California immediately." 

That is what Dr. Graves said to me to-day and 
he is in a position to know what he is talking about. 
But I can't believe it ! Why, I can do the work of 
two women. Haven't I supported myself since I was 
fifteen years old, worked my way through Medi- 
cal College and built up a city practice by my own, 
unaided efforts? Besides, every one says I am the 
picture of health. My five feet eight of energised 
muscle, my high colour, my breadth of shoulder, all 
seem to give such a diagnosis the lie. 

Yet a still voice whispers in my heart, "It is 
true." Since that last severe attack of grippe the 

[7] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

buoyancy has vanished from my step. Life has be- 
come a drag. 

But then, why not*? The last two years have 
been strenuous. Just two years ago to-day San 
Francisco went down in earthquake and flames, scat- 
tering my growing practice to the winds. And of 
course Dan's position went too. But we celebrated 
with an earthquake wedding, and it was not long 
until my husband had worked out his great inven- 
tion, and we came here ; he to gain financial backing 
for his project, and I to profit by the abundance of 
clinical material in a great city. 

And then the panic of 1907 struck us. Why, the 
earthquake was nothing to that. Poor Dan was 
crushed. How can I tell him of this new calamity *? 
And what will it profit to add to his burden, helpless 
as he is ? For months now, he has walked the streets 
looking for any kind of employment at any wage, 
but none is to be had. This hopeless seeking, added 
to the stunning blow of the collapse of his company 
and the deadening pressure of debt incurred last fall 
when we borrowed to the utmost limit of all our 
friends' capacity in a frantic endeavour to save the 
invention, only to lose money, company, invention — 
all in one universal crash — ^has completely unnerved 
him. To see his wife forced into the depths through 

[8] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

his failure, even though that failure was no fault of 
his, has been gall and wormwood to him. Those 
days when we pledged every pawnable article in a 
dogged desire to hang on for just one week longer in 
the hope that the tide would turn; when we moved 
from lodgings to lodgings, each meaner and more 
squalid than the last, until the fathomless pit of 
hell itself seemed reached in this slum; when I gave 
up my work in the college where the wonderful ex- 
perience gained was ample compensation except to 
those driven by grim necessity to seek for any work 
that Would keep this vile tenement over our heads 
and put food in our mouths ; — all these things have 
left him a broken-hearted man. 

And there are many such. Months of idleness, a 
diet of bread and coffee, all the horrors of shivering 
nights in the open or in vermin-infested flop houses, 
the morning rush for the "help wanted" pages of the 
daily papers, the standing in line for hours waiting 
to apply for a job — a hundred men for a single po- 
sition — would these things not take the heart, nay, 
the very soul itself, out of a man? 

When I was discharged last month, losing my 
position because of a general retrenchment, never 
shall I forget the scenes at the Public Library when 
with scores of others I sought the protection of its 

[9] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

sheltering walls at early morning to thaw the night's 
coldness out of my half-frozen body, and search 
the papers for a possible chance of employment. 

One young man in the huddled group interested 
me immensely. When the doors swung open, he 
bounded up the stairs like an athlete, well in the lead 
of the rushing horde who refused to wait for the 
elevator in their frenzied scramble tor the first 
chance at a paper and possible employment. Well- 
dressed, palpably clean living and efficient, he was 
an excellent type of the successful young business 
man. I could picture him as a broker, in an insur- 
ance office or bank, or filling some responsible posi- 
tion in a business house. But in the fall of many 
such houses, his had evidently gone down to ruin 
and now the lad was beginning to feel the pinch 
that comes from weeks of idleness. 

Morning after morning he appeared. His well- 
tailored suit gave way to a misfit piece of shoddy; 
his hat was replaced by a cap which failed to con- 
ceal his need of a hair-cut; his face became lean 
and haggard; no longer was his expression one of 
energy and confidence. A three days' growth of 
beard on his jowls will take some of the confidence 
out of any man when looking for employment. 

Then for days he disappeared, 
[lo] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Came a day when I saw him. It was blizzard 
weather; a sleety rain was carried on a high wind 
which swept through the city streets and wailed and 
whistled round the entrance to the Library building. 
A gaunt figure dragged its feeble way up the front 
steps to the semi-shelter of the pillars; from a face, 
piteously thin, hollow eyes looked out, their glance 
filled with a deep, an utter despair; a short coat 
pinned together at the throat revealed the absence 
of a shirt or underwear; through the cracks in the 
run-over shoes the bare flesh peered ; wet to the skin 
as he was, he shook in the icy blast like a dog in a 
wet sack. As the doors swung wide at nine o'clock 
he did not lead the upward dash, but half way up 
the stairs sank down, overcome by a choking fit of 
coughing. 

I never saw him again. 

To live in a hovel; to drag my weary body for 
miles in search of work; to cough my lungs out 
like the man next door; to be submerged like a 
drowning rat in a sewer; this will be my life in 
Chicago. My eyes ache from gazing at confined 
spaces; across the way the bare walls rise; down the 
canyon streets I see the black ants of humanity 
crawl; overhead the sky is leaden. 

Oh, my beautiful, my California! The whistle 

[11] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of the quail on the open benches is calling me; the 
mating songs of the mocking birds vibrate in my 
heart. Up the wide valley the warm wind sweeps, 
heavy with the fragrance of blossoming trees ; on the 
uplands brilliant masses of flaming poppies and 
the silvery blue of slender lupines spread a feast of 
colour for my weary eyes; oranges blaze out in 
golden glory against the dark green foliage of the 
thrifty groves; the deep blue of the cloudless sky 
seems infinite in depth ; and in the purple distance the 
white-capped peaks of San Bernardino and Gray- 
back rear their lofty heads. 



[12] 



TWO 

April 2yth^ igo8. 



TWO 

April 2yth, igo8. 

Eureka, I've found it — the Great Idea — the crazi- 
est scheme that ever popped into a woman's head! 

We're going home — back to California on a tan- 
dem bicycle. We'll carry a cooking and sleeping 
outfit with us, stop wherever the night finds us, 
work when we can get it, and somehow, with God's 
help, we'll win through. 

And it has come about in the strangest way. Dan 
got a chance to help a man he knows clean out an 
old barn which is to be converted into a garage, 
and in the loft along with the accumulation of 
years, they ran across a tandem bicycle which is in 
excellent condition. The owner gave it to Dan's 
friend who thought he could sell it for something, 
even though cycling is out of date. 

When Dan told me of the occurrence an intense 
longing for the open road leading into the west 
surged over me, but I could see no way of securing 
the wheel since our funds totalled less than five 
dollars. 

[»5] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Then I said to myself, "There is a way. You 
must find it," and resolutely set my subconscious 
mind to the task. 

A day passed and another. Then over the 
threshold of consciousness came the recollection of 
my one cherished possession — a beautiful opera 
cloak. 

On that fateful morning in April, 1906, after the 
rush to escape from the tottering building, I found 
myself on the streets of San Francisco in somewhat 
scanty attire, but folded warmly in my new biscuit- 
coloured evening wrap. Many thanks I offered up 
for its protection in the chilly days and nights that 
followed. Then, when conditions had returned 
somewhat to normal, a good cleaning and remodel- 
ling restored almost its pristine glory, and again it 
gave good service on the honeymoon. While the 
panic was sweeping away all our possessions, I laid 
it aside, resolved that it at least should be retained 
throughout the storm. 

But a sterner necessity compelled, so taking it 
from the drawer, I wended my way to Oak Street and 
there held a colloquy with our friend's wife. The 
cloak caught her fancy at once, the bargain was 
struck, and I trundled home my prize in triumph, 

[16] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

to lean it carefully near the door of our crowded 
quarters. 

Here at dusk, Dan, entering hurriedly, collided 
violently with an outstanding pedal. He hopped 
agilely about on one foot, clasping his left shin in 
an affectionate embrace. 

"What in hades is that thing I just fell over?" he 
demanded hotly. 

"That*? Why, that's our through ticket to Cali- 
fornia." 

As I turned up the ineffective gas jet he recog- 
nised the graceful lines of the machine. 

"Well, I'll be darned!" he ejaculated. "So you 
got the blooming thing from Dave, did you? How'd 
you manage it? And what do you mean, anyway, 
by a ticket to California? You can't be aiming to 
ride that contraption." 

"Don't you dare to call my beautiful green tan- 
dem a contraption. You'll be glad enough to take 
your seat on a bicycle built for two as soon as I've 
explained my perfectly scrumptious scheme to you. 
We'll fix up a light cooking outfit, tie our blankets 
on behind, and away we'll glide out into the west. 
We'll work along the way and have lots of interest- 
ing experiences; I'll get rid of this tiresome cough, 

[17] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and after awhile we'll get home — home, do you 
hear"? Back to California." 

"Ride that thing to California! Why think of 
the country between here and the coast; look at the 
desert, look at the Rocky Mountains, to say nothing 
of the little old Coast Range. What do you think 
I am, anyhow, a cross between a camel and a moun- 
tain goat*?" 

"I'll be sure you're all goat if you butt into my 
cherished plan in that rude fashion," I responded 
gaily. "Never mind. Wait till your shin feels bet- 
ter and you've had something to eat and we'll talk 
it over." 

I drew the table closer to our tiny stove and set 
out the meal while Dan prepared for supper. 

"You remember my telling you about that poor 
little couple that I used to see at the Public Library," 
I began when we were comfortably settled, "the 
ones that used to come in about two or three o'clock 
and go off in a corner somewhere to eat a bit of 
lunch when the librarian wasn't looking *? She's 
been going down very fast for the last few weeks, 
hasn't been able to look for work at all, but waited 
in the library till he came in, half crazy from the 
continued failure to find anything, and then she'd 
try to comfort him while they shared the part of a 

[18] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

loaf of bread that she'd have hidden beneath her old 
cape. 

''When I was warming up in the library this 
morning she was coughing terribly and I talked her 
into trying the charity hospitals again. It seemed 
as if they must take her. You know she went a 
while back, but couldn't get in; she was an ambu- 
latory case. He came in about noon, all used up 
and they didn't have even a crust of bread. 

"We started out and just on the edge of the side- 
walk she had a hemorrhage and before we could get 
the ambulance she was dead. I had taken her in 
my arms, her little body was light as a feather." 
My voice failed. 

"I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he 
realised that she was dead. . . . Dan, I can't die 
as she did. Before I go I want to see the open fields, 
feel the soft earth beneath my feet, draw a few 
breaths of real air. Since I've lived in this slum 
I'm getting so I can't even believe in God." 

"Ethel, you're getting morbid. What's all this 
talk about dying? You're simply upset over these 
people's trouble." 

"No, I'm not morbid, Danny boy. I hate to tell 
you, but Doctor Graves says I have consumption 

[19] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



and must go back to California at once if I'm to get 
well." 

"What utter nonsense. You're the strongest 
woman I've ever seen. It's ridiculous to talk of a 
strapping girl like you having consumption." 

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm afraid it's 
true just the same. I've had a good many symptoms 
. . . but I won't die like an animal in a trap. I 
won't die in this pest hole. I've a fighting chance 
and I'm going to take it. We'll ride that tandem 
west or die in the attempt. When I think of the 
terrors of the journey, the miles and miles of desert 
that I know so well, when I picture those tremen- 
dous mountains, my heart almost fails me, but noth- 
ing, nothing can be so terrible, so horrible to our 
souls as well as destructive to our bodies as these 
loathsome slums. 

"We've got to get away from here, Dan. That's 
all. And I believe we can go to California on that 
wheel. I've heard of people making the journey on 
foot, and in the early days whole families went with 
all sorts of conveyances. What we need is a little 
nerve and grit like the pioneers." 

Well into the night we c^gued, until Dan was 
finally silenced, if not fully convinced. 

[20] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Then the question of equipment confronted us. 
A matter of a few tools for repairs on the journey, 
an extra tire and other insurance against accidents 
reduced our finances almost to zero. Also the prob- 
lem of bulk and weight is a serious matter when 
clothing, bedding, cooking utensils and other neces- 
saries must be carried on one small frame. 

As usual, the front seat of the bicycle is arranged 
for the woman, and on the handle bars we have 
rigged a holder for the cooking outfit. This con- 
sists of a heavy frying pan with the handle removed, 
a fair-sized potato kettle with bail, useful for carry- 
ing water, nested inside, and within that again a 
strong tin pan with close-fitting cover which may 
be used as coffee pot, cocoa kettle or dish pan as 
occasion warrants. Dan has a pair of long-handled 
pliers to remove these from the fire. Inside the pan 
lie two tin plates and two tin cups for coffee; also 
a couple of forks, a sharp steel knife, one large and 
two small spoons and a small tin of salt. A cocoa 
can of sugar, one of coffee and one of cocoa fit to- 
gether very nicely and complete the collection. Di- 
rectly on the rack rest two heavy pieces of wire 
sharpened at the ends which are bent at right angles 
to the body, forming prongs about nine inches long. 
When the points of these prongs are driven into the 

[21] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ground so that the lengths are parallel and about 
eight inches apart, a convenient little support for 
frying pan and kettle is formed, under which a 
small fire can be kindled to great advantage. 

Then Dan contrived a case to fit within the body 
of the frame, which, with careful packing, holds a 
small emergency case, fitted with simple instruments, 
bandages, etc., a few toilet necessities and a change 
of hose and underwear for each. 

Behind the rear seat there is a large rack with 
leather straps for bedding, which is our worst prob- 
lem. Dan made a trip to a big machine shop and 
returned triumphant with two large sheets of black 
oilcloth which had covered electrical equipment. 
To each sheet I sewed a woollen blanket, thus giving 
our future bed protection from damp above and be- 
low. When an extra shirt for Dan and a waist for 
myself was added to this bed roll, we found that we 
could just crowd in one soft old blanket for extra 
covering. When I consider sleeping on the ground 
with a combination oilcloth and woollen blanket 
below, and the two blankets above, my teeth fairly 
chatter with anticipation. But even a frozen death 
would be preferable to our present hopeless exis- 
tence. 

Inasmuch as our rent is due next Sunday, May 

[22] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



3rd, we have decided to start on that date. What 
the future holds, God alone knows, but at least we 
will live in the open, which will compensate for 
much. 



[23] 



, THREE 

May 4th ^ 
In a Big Barn. 



THREE 



May ^tk. In a big barn. 

We are off! 

Sunday dawned bright and clear and Dan and I 
were up with the first light. The neighbourhood 
assembled to receive our few poor sticks of furniture 
and household goods, for we deemed it best to give 
the things to our poverty-stricken neighbours rather 
than sell them for a few pennies to some second- 
hand dealer. 

Our friends think us insane, as well they may, 
but crazy or no, we will see this thing through. 

We surely made a picture at the start. Dan's 
blue eyes were alight with eagerness, his fair hair 
tousled, while his sturdy body showed to good ad- 
vantage in sweater, corduroys and cap. I wore a 
dark shirtwaist, short plaid skirt, blue sweater and 
straw sailor hat. At the last moment we fastened a 
small parcel of groceries atop the bedding roll — a 
bit of bacon, a loaf of bread, a pat of butter and one 
or two other odds and ends. Altogether, the ma- 
chine was well loaded. 

[27] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Then, followed by the cheers of the crowd who 
were busy carrying away the contents of our room, 
and accompanied by a horde of shoving, shouting 
urchins, we made our way up the street. At the 
comer of Division Street we paused to weigh our- 
selves and wheel, and found the combination tipped 
the scales at just five hundred pounds. 

Pushing on to a clear bit of pavement, we mounted 
and were off toward the west side. Both Dan and 
I had ridden bicycles at earlier periods in our career, 
and had spent a little time in Lincoln Park practis- 
ing on the tandem, but we were far from being ex- 
pert riders. The double steering gear which should 
enable the man to help the woman steady the front 
wheel was broken, so, loaded as we were, I found 
the task of steering a difficult one. 

As we wobbled our serpentine way through the 
streets, fortunately nearly empty at that early hour, 
it seemed to me that this was the strangest night- 
mare that ever vexed the soul of woman. There was 
a weird beauty in the morning light, the breath of 
freedom in the gentle breeze. The spirit of adven- 
ture rode with us. I had a feeling of detachment 
from earthly things while realising to the full the 
perils and difficulties of the venture. 

[28] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

An ash can in the street caught my eye. With 
incredible accuracy I headed for it. 

"Hi!" cried Dan, "look where you're going." 

"Good gracious," I answered desperately, "that's 
just what I'm trying not to do." 

Bang ! Quite a spill, but no harm done luckily. 

When we reached Humboldt Park, we decided to 
take a short rest. Pjopping our machine against the 
curb, we sat on a bench beneath a tree. While aim- 
lessly poking the litter at its base with my toe, I saw 
something glitter. 

"Look, Dan!" I exulted. "See what I've found. 
Talk of manna in the wilderness." I held up a 
silver dollar, a half and two dimes. "I feel sure it 
is an omen." 

"Yes, an omen of fresh eggs for breakfast to-mor- 
row morning," replied Dan prosaically. 

Once again we were off. The day wore on. 
Streets gave way to dusty roads full of ruts, into 
which the wheel appeared possessed to stagger. Dust 
rose; sweat poured; our throats ached with un- 
quenchable thirst. My arms seemed wrenched from 
their sockets. Human endurance reached its limit 
as the sun set. 

Wearily we searched for a camping place. 
Finally, in a grassy hollow, screened from the road 

[29] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

by trees, we unpacked our equipment. While Dan 
took the potato kettle to a nearby house for water, 
I set up our wire rack and kindled a tiny fire be- 
neath. 

After a meal which we were almost too tired to 
eat, we spread our scanty bedding on the ground and 
composed ourselves for slumber. An owl settled on 
a branch near our heads and surveyed us with amaze- 
ment. Back and forth he flew, studying the strange 
intruders from every angle. Then with a "hoot" 
of protest and derision, he winged away to attend 
to the business of the evening. 

"Ugh, this ground is hard," grunted Dan. 

"And none too warm," thought I, but neither cold 
nor discomfort could prevail for long against our 
utter exhaustion. 

I sat up with a start. A grey day was breaking; 
the trees rustled in a wind that moaned and mut- 
tered with chilly breath. Big drops of rain beat on 
my face. 

"Quick, Dan, get up I" I cried to the snoring part- 
ner of my dreams. "It's going to pour down rain 
in a few minutes." 

We scurried around, collecting and packing our 
scattered belongings, then decided to make a dash 

[30] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

for a big barn which stood not far down the road at 
the foot of a hill, for the rain was beginning to fall 
heavily. Reaching the highway, we sprang to sad- 
dle and sped down the hill. With a sickening lurch 
the front wheel struck a slippery patch of mud at 
the bottom, the hind wheel skidding sideways. The 
heel of my right shoe caught in the pedal shaft and 
in a trice was torn from my foot and sent spinning 
ten feet away. Dan went sprawling on the wet 
earth, while I hopped awkwardly along, bruising my 
shins, but clinging desperately to the handle bars 
with both hands. 

Dan picked himself up and came to my assistance. 

'Tick up my heel, please," said I, standing like a 
stork on one foot. Dan stared at me dazedly. 'Tick 
up my heel," I cried impatiently. He reached for 
my foot. "Do you think I'm a horse waiting to be 
shod^ Don't you see the heel of my shoe lying over 
there in the mud*?" 

With that he retrieved the loosened heel and we 
hurried through the steady downpour to the barn. 
The owner came out and, having listened to our tale 
of woe, gave us some shingle nails to repair the torn 
shoe and bade us build a fire beneath a shed to pre- 
pare breakfast. Dan fulfilled the augury of the 
previous day by the purchase of some fresh eggs, 

[31] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and soon we were feasting on bacon and eggs and 
pints of steaming coffee. 

Good? Why nectar and ambrosia were stale be- 
side it. 

After the meal, we repaired to the bam loft and, 
easing our weary bones into the prickly depths of 
hay, awaited the end of the storm. 



[32] 



FOUR 

May 6th, igo8. 



FOUR 

May 6lh, igoS. 

Dan found work ! Only a day and a half, but a 
few hours were better than nothing, and gave us 
hope. 

The sun was setting as a wagon rattled up the 
road with Dan dangling his feet over the endgate. 

"Come on, Ethel," he cried, "our friend here has 
offered us a place in his barn and plenty of dry corn 
cobs for the fire." 

I sprang up and we loaded the wheel into the 
wagon. Soon the driver entered a lane which ended 
in a large barnyard, and as Dan began to help with 
the team, I unloaded the cooking outfit. 

The farmer was pulling some grain sacks from a 
large tub in the wagon bed. 

"Here's plenty of fish," he said. "Just pitch in 
and help yourselves." 

Our eyes bulged in astonishment at sight of the 
silvery heaps that filled the tub. 

"Where on earth did you get so many"?" gasped 
Dan. 

[35] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"South o' the road where the river has overflowed 
its banks. The boys are heaving them out with 
pitchforks and spears and even bare handed. Take 
all you want. I've three times as many as Sarah 
Jane and I can eat." 

Nothing loath, I lifted out sufficient for our needs, 
and as Dan set to cleaning the fish, I collected corn 
cobs and kindled a tiny fire beneath the rack. 

A short, roly-poly woman bustled out of the back 
door of the small but comfortable farmhouse and 
approached us. 

"Dear me, dear me, a lady tramp !" she exclaimed. 
"Bless us, if they haven't gone to running in pairs 
like animals entering the ark." 

Catching sight of the tandem still loaded with 
part of our equipment, she paused in amazement, 
pushing back her red calico sunbonnet and revealing 
wonderful masses of snow-white curls. 

"But you're not a tramp after all, are you? 
Tramps don't ride bicycles. What a disappoint- 
ment! I've always wanted to meet a lady tramp. 
But what are you up to anyway? Must be some- 
thing interesting. You look interesting." 

I assured her that we were, indeed, up to some- 
thing interesting, just how interesting we would 
probably fully realise later on. 

[36] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"So you're really going back to that strange Cali- 
fornia where it is always summer'? What awful 
monotony. Come fall, I'm always glad, for I feel 
that summer has been here plenty long enough." 

She seated herself on the wagon tongue. 

The barnyard world was settling for the night 
with much cackling, grunting, lowing and stamping. 
Under a near-by shed a flock of fowls was clucking 
and fussing as they sought the highest perches. 

"Look at those chickens, now. Aren't they just 
like humans'?" demanded our visitor. "I sit out 
here and watch them by the hour." 

"Caw, caw-rr," croaked a haughty grenadier of a 
hen, taking a sharp peck at a handsome young pullet 
who had endeavoured to perch on the topmost roost. 

"Hear what she says? I'll tell you," the little 
woman interpreted eagerly. 

" 'Get right away from here, you impudent, up- 
start dominick. Go back with the lower clawsses 
where you belong and don't try to crowd in here 
with your betters.' 

"Do you know, we got a woman living on the 
other side of town who's the perfect spit and image 
of that old hen. There, hear her talking? 

" 'These nobodies try to push in everywhere.' 

"Now the old rooster is a cuttering. . . . 'She 

[37] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

seems rather a nice little thing, but of course, as you 
say, she'll never be able to attain to any position in 
life, but really for one of her social standing, she's 
quite chick.' 

"Now the old hen's talking again. 'Fowls of 
quality can't be too careful nowadays. These ple- 
beian climbers are everywhere.' " 

The haughty Plymouth Rock settled herself and 
preened her feathers with the conscious air of duty 
well performed, while the little woman laughed 
gaily. 

"Now she feels that she has maintained all the 
traditions of her class. Oh, yes, they have classes 
in the chicken yard just as in the American nation. 
I was thinking of getting a good likeness of that 
hen and sending it to the Chicago American so's 
they could print her picture on the society page. 

"You know, I find lots of interesting characters 
out here. There's a hog over yonder. He's stuffed 
so full he can't swallow another mouthful, yet he 
keeps wallowing over the food so the shoats can't 
get any, and they stand back and first one tries to 
get a bite and then another, when if they'd all rush 
him at once they'd get aplenty. When he grunts 
like that he's telling them to be contented and in- 
dustrious little pigs and that if they just start root- 

[38] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ing early every morning, after a while they'll be 
eminent and respected like he is and able to wallow 
in the feed trough. 

''And Father's got the big kettle all ready, and 
Saturday he's going to butcher him." 

"Hi, Serjane, I've got the fish ready for the pan 
and there you set on the wagon tongue aletting the 
fire go out." It was the querulous voice of the old 
man. 

Sarah Jane hurried into the kitchen as Dan placed 
a fine mess of fish over the coals. We had just got- 
ten well started to eating when the back door flew 
open with a bang and the little woman scudded to- 
ward us. 

"Oh, I'm too late," she cried breathlessly. 
"You're already eating. Now why didn't I ask you 
to eat with us before^ Why'? Why? Why?' 

Each word was a tiny explosion. 

"Just because I didn't think! Didn't think! 
That's what ails the world. We don't think, won't 
think and can't think. Now, which do you con- 
sider is the worst*?" 

"The won't thinks are the worst to my mind," I 
assured her gravely, "because the don't thinks get 
waked up now and then, and after a while the can't 
thinks will grow some more brains, so that there is 

[39] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

a chance of them getting started right, but as for 
the fellow who just naturally refuses to think at 
all, there is not much hope for him." 

"Dear me, dear me. I would just love to talk to 
you. You must come into the sitting room as soon 
as you are done eating and spend the evening with 
me. ril hurry and wash the dishes." 

She spun around and scurried into the house. We 
hastily finished our meal and prepared sleeping quar- 
ters in the hay mow. 

Then, as darkness fell, the old man ushered us 
into the neat living-room. The soft rays from a 
large lamp glimmered on the walnut furniture and 
illumined the family groups upon the walls. Braided 
rugs, round and oval, were scattered about the floor 
and a cheerful blaze in an open-front stove radiated 
a pleasant welcome in the chill of evening. In a 
few moments our hostess was extracting all the de- 
tails of our journey with the neatness and skill of 
long experience. 

After a while Dan rose with a sigh of weariness. 
"Come, Ethel, we'd better hit the hay. I've got to 
work to-morrow, you know." 

"Hay — ^hit the hay ! No such a thing. Go right 
into the spare room and make yourselves uncomfor- 

[40] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

table." Sarah Jane rushed to open the bedroom 

door. 

\ I explained our plans for roughing it and said we 

should rest very comfortably in the hay mow. 

"Dear me, dear me, you should always put off till 
to-morrow what you can get out of doing to-day. 
You can do aplenty of roughing it when you get to 
Wyoming. Go on to bed now and enjoy a good 
spring mattress while you have the chance." 

Daylight came all too soon, with Sarah Jane sum- 
moning us to a breakfast of cornmeal mush and 
cream, fried perch, buckwheat cakes with maple 
svrup and cups of amber coffee. 

"Let me know if you find anything that I can do 
to help along. I'd like to be of more use in the 
world than I can be hibernating here," she called 
af tei- us as we pedalled down the lane. 

I can still see her merry smile as she leaned over 
the gate, vigorously waving her sunbonnet in fare- 
well. 



[41] 



FIVE 

May ylh. 
At Crab-Apple Hedge. 



FIVE 

May yth. At Crab-Apple Hedge, 
We are in a new world. All day long we press 
forward, sometimes riding and again on foot, for 
the roads are rough and often muddy; and on every 
hand the beauties of an Illinois spring unfold before 
our enraptured gaze. 

With the western spring I am familiar. In March 
and April acres on acres of greasewood blossoms and 
wild lilacs were all swaying in the ocean breeze that 
sweeps the wide reaches of our Southern California 
valleys each afternoon. A wild spirit of freedom, 
an almost Pagan joyousness and gaiety is manifest, 
which speaks of primitive things and appeals to the 
elemental essence of the soul. But here Nature ap- 
proaches in more tender intimacy. Little love flow- 
ers snuggle on her breast. The whole earth palpi- 
tates with a sweet warmth and promise of beauties 
to follow. 

On our right stretches a crab-apple hedge in full 
bloom, a veritable glory of beauty and fragrance, 
which crowns a ridge whence rolling acres fall grad- 

[45] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



ually away, revealing, here and there, farmhouses 
surrounded by kitchen gardens and groups of fruit 
trees, billowy plumes of soft colour, some outlined 
by the tender green of spring. The smoke of noon- 
time fires lazily ascends from the chimneys, the 
cackle of hens and other barnyard sounds come 
faintly on the breeze. My heart aches with the 
homing impulse. My mind turns to the experi- 
ences of the past few days. 

Wednesday the air was clear and balmy, and as 
night approached we stopped beneath a bridge where 
thick trees screened our camp from view. The wires 
were driven in the ground, the modest camp-fire 
lighted, and soon the delicious aroma of boiling 
cocoa and grilled steak whetted appetites already 
ravenous. 

Our hunger appeased, we were settling for the 
night, when I was seized with foreboding of a com- 
ing storm. Dan laughed and called it a crazy no- 
tion and beyond all reason. But the feeling in- 
creased in intensity until I insisted on seeking the 
shelter of some building. Dan acquiesced reluc- 
tantly, but by the time we had repacked and loaded 
the wheel, night had fallen. 

At the nearest farm we asked permission to sleep 
in the barn, but were abruptly denied. At the 

[46] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

next house the inmates refused to answer our knock. 

"Well, what are you going to do now? Walk all 
night *?" expostulated Dan. 

On our left a dark mass appeared in the darkness 
and proved to be the ruins of a race track grand- 
stand. As I stumbled beneath the tiers of seats, 
hoping for some promise of protection, a man leaped 
up almost at my feet. 

I sprang back, startled. 

"Come," said the stranger, "I know the way." 

As though in a trance I followed him, my hand 
guiding the wheel, while Dan pushed behind. We 
immediately came on a narrow board walk at right 
angles to the road. The man led on into the thick 
darkness, the two of us following blindly after. On 
and on we travelled as though impelled by some 
force outside our own volition. A huge building 
loomed on our right. Silently we skirted it, the 
clop, clop of our feet on the boards giving way to 
noiseless progress over grassy turf. 

Suddenly the front wheel of the tandem struck 
some obstacle, and in the deepened gloom I could 
faintly discern the outlines of another building, the 
steps of which were before me. These I mounted, 
preceded by our strange guide, who said not a word, 
but rapped loudly on the door. 

[47] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

From some remote region came a scuffling, then 
the bang of an inner door, and down a long hall 
shuffled a tall, lean figure wrapped in a trailing 
dressing gown. An oil lamp in its hand gave forth 
a yellow gleam, which lighted up the old-fashioned 
interior and shone through the glass panelled door. 
The old man, for such it was, peered through the 
glass at our mysterious attendant, and then, after 
prolonged fumbling with lock and bolts and chain, 
slowly swung open the door. 

"And who might yez be'?" he inquired in a rich 
brogue, directing a keen Irish eye on Dan and me. 

We explained our situation as briefly as possible 
and asked for the shelter of some outbuilding for the 
night. 

"Faith, and ye're wilcome to the house. Sure and 
it's large enough for tin and but three av us to fill it." 

As he spoke there came a tapping and a little old 
woman with snapping black eyes skipped like a bird 
to his side. 

"An' indade they shall not come inside this house 
the night. Murdthered in me bed I will not be." 

"Hush, Katie," querulously chided the ancient. 
"This is no time for to be exercisin' yer conthrary 
timper." 

But the little old woman braced herself in the 

[48] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

doorway as though to defy the world, and I has- 
tened to state that we only wanted to sleep in the 
barn. 

"Well, if so ye will. Arrah, the house is open 
save for this old spalpeen." With that he shuf- 
fled off to fetch a lantern. 

I turned to thank our guide, but he had disap- 
peared. 

Soon we were inside the big bam that we had 
passed coming in. The wavering rays of the lantern 
disclosed huge, cob-webbed recesses, rows of empty 
stalls, a tumble-down carriage, and near the sliding 
door, a small hillock of well packed hay. Otherwise 
the place was empty. On this hay we made our bed 
and were soon asleep. 

I was awakened by the drumming of rain on the 
roof. Another wet morning was upon us. I leaned 
over to ask Dan what he thought of my "crazy no- 
tion" now. But he was sound asleep, so I conquered 
my feminine impulse and decided to get up and 
scout a dry place to cook breakfast. 

"Ow-wow!" My bare foot splashed into a lake 
of cold water which, concealed by a layer of floating 
straw and chaff, covered the floor of the old barn to 
a depth of eighteen inches. 

My startled howl brought Dan up with a jerk. 

[49] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Hastily we dressed and moved our footgear and 
bedding to the top of a grain bin. As we perched 
forlornly on this refuge in a watery waste, the door 
opened and the little old lady of the night before 
came in. 

Perhaps we appeared less murderous by the light 
of day, or what is more likely, her "conthrary tim- 
per" was less in evidence when acting on her own 
initiative; at any rate, after a short chat, she cor- 
dially invited us in to breakfast. 

Then followed a most interesting day. Jim, her 
husband, who was unusually well read, struck up an 
immediate friendship with Dan, and while waiting 
for the rain to cease, Katie and I visited in the 
kitchen. 

There were but three in the family : the old man, 
his wife and the feeble-minded chore man who had 
brought us to their dwelling the previous night. Out- 
side of an acre of orchard, a chicken run and a small 
garden, their great holdings of hundreds of acres 
were rented to tenants, one of whom supplied them 
with milk and butter. 

The couple had emigrated from the old country 
when very young; had met and loved on the long 
voyage, and were married soon after their arrival. 

James Grogan was a remarkable man. Keen, 

[50] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

shrewd, ambitious, he worked and saved and invested 
with all the energy and acumen that has enabled so 
many of his race to rise in the world. He home- 
steaded the original Illinois farm and to these hun- 
dred and sixty acres he constantly added. His pas- 
sion was to leave his children educated and rich. 
He himself had learned to read and write when past 
the age of thirty; the struggle upward had been a 
hard one ; his children should be spared all this. 

And eleven babies were born to them. With bit- 
ter words old Katie painted pictures of the heart- 
breaking toil ; the lack of ordinary conveniences ; the 
goading tongue of her lord and master driving her 
on through the years while acre was added to acre, 
and the herds increased, and no barn was large 
enough to hold the abundant crops. Modem farm 
implements were purchased in plenty, but there was 
no money for the simplest household conveniences; 
outbuildings were snug and well built; but the home 
itself was ramshackle and poor. 

It has been said that in earlier days the size of a 
man's farm could often be estimated by the number 
of wives' tombstones in his lot in the cemetery. But 
it was not true in this case. Katie had lived, but 
her babies died. 

Her love for her husband turned to a cold hate, 

[51] 



\ 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



but Still the babies came. Ten had been born and 
ten had died before Jim realised that Katie needed 
as good care as his animals — that she was more than 
any animal — that she was, in truth, the mother of 
those children — his children — whom he worshipped 
— and lost. 

So the youngest boy was born and grew — a slen- 
der, delicate, brilliant lad — and all the facilities for 
education, and all the riches of cattle and horses and 
broad acres were his to command. 

He was educated for the Bar. And while he was 
in college and while he studied law, his father and 
he built up a wonderful library and still more won- 
derful plans for the future, when James Grogan, 
Junior, should be a great jurist and statesman with 
a reputation nation wide. 

Abruptly his health failed. Lack of vitality, his 
inheritance from his mother, made itself felt. He 
went to California and there died. 

James Grogan, Senior, brought home that library 
and installed it in the old ramshackle house with its 
addition here and lean-to there. And here, alone, he 
read each volume. 



[52] 



SIX 

Monday^ May iith^ 
In the Mud. 



SIX 



Monday^ May nth. In the Mud, 
To you, and you alone, little diary, will I confess 
a sense of deep discouragement. Mud! Mud! 
Seas of mud and oceans of rain ! 

We have been out eight full days and have cov- 
ered but sixty-five miles. The appetite that I have 
developed is truly amazing. As I sit by a fence, 
waiting for Dan to investigate those streaks of ooze 
and slush called roads, I'm hungry enough to eat 
Limburger cheese, which is saying a good deal for 
me. Yet I finished a hearty breakfast but an hour 
or so ago. I am ravenous, morning, noon and night, 
and Dan is nearly as bad. When I compare the 
size of our appetites with the cost of bread and eggs 
at farmhouses, the dollar and a half that Dan 
sweat like a stevedore to earn, looks woefully in- 
adequate. 

Saturday afternoon we cycled through the town 
of Morris, stopping long enough to purchase a few 
supplies. Two miles from town we passed a neat 
farmhouse, and just beyond found a most beautiful 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



meadow surrounded by trees. The long shadows of 
late afternoon lay across the thick green sward which 
rose in a gentle slope. 

Delighted with the spot, we cooked our evening 
meal and lay down to enjoy the glory of the moon, 
which, floating above the trees, bathed the earth with 
its soft radiance. The peaceful chorus of night in- 
sects and the gentle whisper of the wind in the tree 
tops soon lulled us to sleep. 

I dreamed that we were riding over a long bridge 
that suddenly gave way with a deafening crash, pre- 
cipitating us into the rushing stream below. I wak- 
ened with a start. Alas, it was more than a dream. 
The night was like ink. Lightning crackled, thunder 
crashed and rolled, rain descended in torrents and 
a fine young rivulet was bounding down the hillside 
and pouring directly over our bed. 

Bewildered, we stumbled around in the darkness, 
collecting such clothing as came to hand. 

''Come on," cried Dan, "let's make for the big 
barn up the road." 

Guided by the flashes of lightning, we hastened 
across the field and approached the barn from above. 
A momentary gleam disclosed a black opening be- 
fore me. I made a dive for the shelter within. Fol- 
lowed a sickening sense of falling, and I spread- 

[56] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

eagled onto some yielding, hairy object which heaved 
and scrambled madly with much blowing and bel- 
lowing. Thus I was made aware that my unseemly 
arrival had disturbed the gentle slumbers of a cow. 
At least I sincerely hoped that the creature belonged 
to the gentler sex as I backed out of the stall with 
more haste than elegance. 

Dan, meanwhile, had located the hayloft and, 
guided by his voice, I groped my way to him, and 
notwithstanding the stimulating companionship of 
barley-beards and thistles, contrived to snatch a few 
hours' sleep. 

The rain ceased about daybreak, and we returned 
to the scene of the evening before to collect our 
scattered utensils and spread the soaked bedding in 
the brilliant sunshine. Most of our recent pur- 
chases were ruined, the bread especially being re- 
duced to a soggy mass, so Dan sought the farmhouse 
to renew our supply. He returned rather indignant 
with less than a half loaf of bread, for which he had 
paid ten cents. It then developed that the bacon had 
disappeared and our dozen eggs were badly scram- 
bled, so Dan reluctantly went back to buy eggs and 
bacon if possible. 

In a few minutes he was back empty-handed, 
angry right through. The farmer had demanded 

[57] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

twenty-five cents for a half dozen eggs, which had 
cost us twenty cents a dozen in Morris the day be- 
fore, and when Dan declined to buy had grown in- 
sulting. 

We made coffee and were drinking it when a 
roughly dressed man approached. 

''Say, folks," he began, "you better clear out of 
here. The boss up there is hitchin' up a team to go 
to Morris after the constable. I hearn him vow to 
have you run in for trespassin' on his land." 

We looked at one another in alarm. Hastily 
swallowing the last crumbs of bread, we rolled up 
our wet blankets and made ready for the road, the 
stranger doing all he could to help. Once on the 
highway we found riding out of the question be- 
cause of the mud, and what to do we didn't know, 
especially as our friend said that the constable would 
be glad enough to arrest us for the fee. 

"But if your wife don't mind," he concluded, 
"you might come down to the river with me. We're 
choppin' wood down there and the bunch' 11 hide you 
till the constable gets tired nosin' around and goes 
back to town." 

No sooner said than done. The men took the 
wheel, and away we went through the underbrush to 
the woodchopper's shack. There were four men 

[58] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

there, washing clothes, shaving and attending to the 
usual Sunday chores. Our adherent explained the 
situation and they all hustled around to make us 
comfortable. One built up the fire to dry our things, 
another hid the wheel, one went out to the road to 
keep watch, while the fourth arranged a place of 
concealment for us in the rear of the room. Hardly 
were the preparations complete, when the watcher 
reported the coming of the farmer and the constable. 

We ducked to cover, the door was shut, and after 
a bit we heard our hosts parleying with the new- 
comers and demonstrating their skill in the art of 
graceful lying. Soon they announced that the coast 
was clear, but advised us to remain in retirement for 
an hour or two at least, and, to pass the time, sug- 
gested a trip on the river. One got out some fishing 
tackle, another dug bait, while a third cut rods from 
the willows. We all followed a winding path to 
the river where row boats were tied, and stepping in, 
were off for a little fishing excursion. 

The hours flew by on the wings of delight, while 
the men fished in cool, shady coves or rowed up 
stream with the oars glinting in the sun. We had a 
good catch, when dark shadows athwart our course 
and a gusty breeze that set the water rippling pro- 
claimed the coming of another shower. 

[59] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Returning to the shanty, the men prepared the 
glistening spoils, and before the savoury dish was 
ready for the table, the rain was pounding on the 
roof. 

As the day waned, I became the prey of serious 
misgivings, but about an hour before sundown the 
rain slackened and four of the men declared their 
intention of going to town to see a show, adding that 
they did not expect to return till morning. Our first 
acquaintance cooked a hearty meal, then rigged a 
blanket curtain across one end of the room, and 
warmed and dried and fed, we retired to rest, giving 
thanks for the spirit of true brotherhood which often 
manifests itself in unlikely places. 

Next morning our benefactor packed a substantial 
lunch and started us on our journey. But so far we 
have made poor progress. 

Dan has just come up with the news that our one 
chance to proceed lies in following the railroad track, 
so I must up and away. 

Well, we are making a little better time along the 
track than in the slush of the road, though this 
method of travel is far from ideal. We push the 
wheel between the rails, and the poor thing goes 
bump, bump, bump over the ties, while the cooking 

[60] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

outfit jingles and clinks and the whole load threatens 
to fall off. When nerves can stand the strain no 
longer, we try the path at the side of the track. 
This we essayed to ride, but a shelving ledge where 
the path almost disappeared nearly sent us down the 
embankment, so we trundle the wheel and walk. 
The pedal barks my shins and I feel like saying 
something wicked. I hear Dan muttering under his 
breath and fully second what he is thinking. Just 
when I can no longer endure the pangs of starvation, 
he declares that it is time to stop for lunch. Sweet 
sound ! 

Luncheon over, I throw myself face down on the 
gravelled siding. When I consider the lack of 
money, the scarcity of work, the wretched roads and 
never-ending storms, my beloved California seems 
very far away. 



[61] 



SEVEN 
Thursday, May i^th. 



SEVEN 

Thursday. May 14th. 

Before the open door of a •'■'side-door Pullman" I 
sit at ease on our bedding roll with my dian- on my 
knees, watching the Iowa prairie billow past. Wliat 
a relief to view the stretches of gluey, sloppy road, 
serene in the knowledge that for the present at least 
we are free from its sticky toils. 

We lunched last Monday beside the Stockdale 
siding and while packing our belongings preparatory 
to another tussle with the bike, a freight train pulled 
in. The train crew sun."eyed us with vast interest, 
and as the engine backed slowly past, the engineer 
leaned far out of the cab window. 

''WTiither away'?" he queried. 

''California or bust," veiled Dan. 

The long train jarred to a stop on the siding. A 
brakeman appeared and entered into conversation. 

'It must be pretty fierce to ride a wheel through 
that mud,'' he volunteered. 

"You bet it is." agreed Dan, ''and the track isn't 

[65] 



'e' 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

much better. If I bark any more hide off my shins, 
I'll have to buy a pair of crutches." 

With a shriek and a roar a passenger train thun- 
dered through. The freight pulled slowly off the 
siding. The engineer leaned out as before, his big, 
good-natured mouth stretched in a broad grin, his 
right arm swinging with a scooping motion. 

"Get aboard I Get aboard I" he shouted. 

Dan and I exchanged glances. With one accord 
we jumped for the wheel which stood loaded for the 
start, and ran it along beside the track. Car after 
car groaned past. The caboose appeared. A brake- 
man leaned from the step and grasped the handle 
bars, the conductor lent a hand, and in a moment 
our old machine was being hoisted upon the plat- 
form while Dan and I scrambled up the steps. 

Followed a detailed account of our aims and ad- 
ventures, which was listened to with keen attention. 
The train crew held a council of war to determine 
the best means of procedure. About half way up 
the train was situated an empty box car, and to this 
we were transferred as soon as darkness had fallen. 
We spread our blankets on the floor and composed 
ourselves for sleep. 

But alas and alack! A new crew had come 
aboard, who had chosen our resting place for a 
[66] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

bumper and appeared to be switching all the cars 
on the middle division with it. We would enter a 
siding with much grinding and jarring, coming to a 
stop with a jolt. The train would be uncoupled in 
the middle, our car would advance with increasing 
speed, then — whang — we would bump the standing 
gondolas, the train would buckle at each coupling 
with a resounding thumping, the engine would jerk 
us backward, and we were off to repeat the per- 
formance. 

Towards morning the door of the box car slid 
softly open and several men piled in. Dan asked 
them what they wanted and one replied, "It's all 
right. Bo. We're westbound bundle stiffs same as 
yourself." 

Great was their amazement when the morning 
light revealed the presence of a woman. About sun- 
rise, two jumped out to "rustle some grub" while 
the engine stopped for water. 

The train was moving out and we had given them 
up, when here they came, helter skelter, and leaped 
aboard the speeding car. One had some slices of 
meat and bread in a newspaper, while the other car- 
ried part of a loaf of bread. The food was unhesi- 
tatingly divided among the five of us and was greatly 
appreciated. 

[67] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

The scant meal finished, we settled down to talk. 
I was amazed at the mentality displayed by the 
smallest fellow, a member of the I. W. W. He 
seemed conversant with all the questions of the day, 
and expressed in excellent language clear cut opin- 
ions on industrial subjects that were both novel and 
startling. They were all workers, but jobs were 
scarce where they came from, so they were going 
west in the hope of bettering their condition. The 
fact that thousands were at that moment travelling 
in the opposite direction, impelled by self -same con- 
ditions, failed to deter them. 

One was a big, husky chap with rugged, honest 
features and the true brown eyes of a Collie. His 
story interested me greatly. 

Born among collieries, he was driven to work as a 
breaker boy at a very early age by the wretched 
poverty of his parents. After several years of dead- 
ening toil at a time when he should have been in 
school, he drifted away to join the great army of 
migratory workers. He worked on a threshing ma- 
chine while the harvest was in progress, and at its 
close what little money he had been able to save was 
consumed while searching for another job. Perhaps 
he got work with pick and shovel in some construc- 
tion gang, but the contractor's system of low wages, 
[68] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

high board bills, charges for physician's care — which 
most do not receive — and the like, kept him desti- 
tute. He called at an employment office, where he 
paid two dollars for a job, was worked just long 
enough to pay for transportation, board and monthly 
fees, then discharged without wages, his employer 
and the agent dividing up the original fee. From 
coast to coast he wandered, sweating in the dust and 
heat of summer through long hours of racking labor, 
in order to escape starvation in the idle months of 
winter. 

His eyes grew dark and wistful as he shyly con- 
fessed his one love affair. He had secured employ- 
ment in a little lumber mill and made such a good 
impression on the boss, who was also the owner, that 
he was taken to board in his own home. Here the 
poor fellow got his first idea of what home life might 
mean. He fell in love with the daughter of the 
house, who seemed to reciprocate, but before they 
could enter into any formal engagement the lumber 
trust put the mill out of business, ruining the owner, 
who was forced to leave that part of the country. 

Try as he would, the young man could secure no 
steady employment and marriage without such foun- 
dation was out of the question. 

"I saw enough of getting married on nothing 

[69] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

when I was a boy," he concluded. "Wages are set 
for single men, I reckon. And after a bit a fellow 
can't earn a living for his family, so the wife and 
kiddies have to rustle out and work. Easy enough 
for them to get a job," he added bitterly. "Many a 
time I've seen kids doing work that I'd been glad to 
get. But they can beat a man all out at working 
cheap. They got to work cheap or starve. I may 
be a good-for-nothing bundle stiff, but I've never got 
so low as to live off the work of little children." 

"Our good business men are not so finicky," broke 
in the I. W. W. "A big profit looks good to them. 
If it comes from the coined sweat and blood of 
women and children, so much the better. Yes, 
women are cheaper than men, and kids are cheaper 
than women. After a bit they'll get machines that 
are cheaper than kids, and then the brats can rot in 
the slums for all they care." 

"Why not let the people in general own the ma- 
chines and run them for use instead of for profit'? 
Then the men could do the work, the wonjien could 
stay at home and the children go to schooL" Thus 
spoke the quiet member of the trio. 

"Shut up, you crazy socialist!" exclaimed the I. 
W. W. "You fellows won't do anything but vote. 
You leave it to us. We're the boys who'll fix the 

[70] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

machines, all right, all right. Yes, and the plutes, 
too." 

I remembered the many I. W. W. signs and no- 
tices that were posted along the way; the groups of 
men beneath the water tanks who listened eagerly to 
the harangues of such as he. Some even had told 
me that they had given up liquor because it blunted 
their faculties at a time when brains were needed in 
the workers' fight against the capitalists. I seemed 
to hear a muttering as of a gathering storm ; perhaps 
in the days preceding the French Revolution a simi- 
lar murmuring rose. 

There are so many like my dark-eyed acquain- 
tance. He lost touch with his sweetheart, lost hope, 
lost ambition and now drifts aimlessly about the 
country in search of a bare subsistence. 

It is he and the millions of his class who quarry 
the stone and hew the timber for our cities; they 
build the roadbed and lay the tracks for swiftly 
turning Pullman wheels; they mine the coal that 
warms our dwellings; they harvest the wheat that 
nourishes our bodies; without their labour industry 
would cease. 

Yet life to them holds out no hope, no promise; 
"■heir meagre earnings forbid the thought of mar- 

[71] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



riage; their only home is some saloon; their final 
rest the potter's field. 

About ten o'clock a trainman poked his head in- 
side the door. 

*'Hey, clear out, you fellows. This is no place 
for you when we enter the yard. Better beat it." 

The hoboes bade us adieu and sprang from the 
car. The brakeman leaped in beside us. 

"We finish our run at the next stop," he said. 
"The engineer will slow down at the outskirts of 
town and you jump off and hike out. You'll find 
the main road over to the north." 

We thanked him warmly for his kindness and 
made ready to follow his advice. Soon the train 
slowed to a mere crawl. Dan leaped down and ran 
alongside, I swung out the wheel, which he seized, 
and in an instant I was standing beside him. 

Waving farewell to the train crew, who had all 
turned out to see us off, we struck out for the main 
road. The straggling outskirts of a good-sized town 
lay before us. 

"Tell you what," I remarked after we had - 
traversed some distance. "Suppose we stop in the 
residence section and look for work. I'll offer to do 

[72] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

washing or cleaning by the day, and you can cut the 
lawn, wash the automobile or something." 

Dan replied with a snort of righteous indignation. 
"Ever since you were bit by the crazy bug and 
started out to be a lady hobo you have lost all your 
natural pride, Ethel. It was bad enough for me, a 
high-class electrical engineer with a paid-up union 
card in my pocket, to stoop to the job of a common 
labourer as I did last week for your sake. Now I'll 
be damned if I become a dirty roustabout and have 
some old hen ordering me around while I sweep off 
the front porch." 

"Oh, all right," I answered cheerily. "But the 
Interesting hour of high noon approacheth. Will 
you please be so kind as to furnish me with exact 
information regarding your financial standing? I 
am pained to confess myself the victim of a too 
familiar craving which calls aloud for attention." 

Dan thrust his hand into his pocket and withdrew 
a solitary ten cent piece, nor did a prolonged search 
of numerous pockets yield further riches. 

" 'Tis sad," I sighed, "but a still voice tells me 
that that bit of silver will prove strangely inadequate 
to the demands of nature. However, no doubt you 
can dine off your natural pride, served up on your 

[73] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

paid-up union card, while I eat a dime's worth of 
doughnuts or something." 

We approached a rather pretentious place as I 
spoke. A large brass sign announced "J. Stanchley 
Loane, M.D., Physician and Surgeon." I paused 
to study the white house with the red-roofed garage 
in the rear. 

"This looks like a good place to make a start. 
Think I'll just go in and call on my fellow prac- 
titioner and see what happens." 

Dan stepped in front of me. "Now see here, 
Ethel !" he began angrily. "Don't go to pulling off 
foolish stunts. You are my wife and I absolutely 
forbid you to go about like an Irish washerwoman 
and " 

"Now see here, Dan!" I mimicked, breaking in 
upon his authoritative harangue, "I am your wife, 
'tis true, but sad to say, the fact does not prevent me 
from growing hungry. 'Tis also true that I am only 
a graduate physician with a high-class appetite. I 
have no paid-up union card to stand between me and 
possible employment with its promise of a square 
meal. Moreover, I have never felt myself to be so 
wonderfully superior to the Irish washerwomen who 
earn an honest living by honest labour. At any 
rate, I shall not attempt to hold myself above them 

[74] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

unless I can prove by my conduct that I have that 
right. Just now I fail to see how either you or I 
can do better than by marching up to that back door 
and asking for work like the genuine bundle stiffs 
that we are. Of course if you desire to remain here 
on the curb, upholding your dignity while I ask 
for employment, you are entirely at liberty to do so. 
As for me, I'm going in right now." 

As I turned up the concrete driveway Dan leaned 
the wheel against the fence and followed. I rapped 
at the door of the screen porch. The inner door was 
opened and a heavy-set man with bristling, reddish 
hair stepped out. 

"Good morning, Doctor Loane," I began. "My 
husband and I are cycling to California, and being 
short of funds are looking for employment. My 
husband is an excellent mechanic and will be glad to 
go over your car for you. I can cook, wash, scrub 
or do any kind of housework." 

The doctor looked us up and down with an in- 
solent stare. 

"So you can cook, can you? Suppose you come 
in and show what you can do. I'm alone in the 
house to-day. We have a devilish time with serv- 
ants. Our last maid — a pretty little fool — got on 
her high horse and quit us yesterday, and the old 

[75] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

harridan of a cook followed suit. My wife's gone 
to town to get another bunch." 

"Sit down on the porch, you," he ordered Dan, 
"and you step in here. There is the pantry and the 
ice chest. Throw together some sort of lunch and 
call me when it's ready." He waved his hand with 
a lordly air and disappeared into the front of the 
house. 

A short inspection enabled me to determine on a 
suitable menu, and soon a very fair lunch was spread 
on the dining table. 

"Humph I You are quite a clever piece of goods," 
the doctor volunteered, as I summoned him to the 
meal. "Go and feed your man now, and later we'll 
find something more for you to do." 

The meal concluded. Dr. Loane took Dan to the 
garage, while I whisked the dishes away and tidied 
the kitchen. The doctor entered as I finished my 
task. 

"There is some work to be attended to in my pri- 
vate office, and you are just the one to do it for me," 
he grinned ingratiatingly. 

I felt my face growing hot as I realised what he 
meant. 

"What work do you want me to do'?" I asked, ris- 
ing to my feet. 

[76] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

He advanced with outstretched arms, a bestial 
demon looking out of his red-brown eyes. I backed 
behind the table, fury and dread causing my heart 
to beat tumultuously. 

Just then a short ring came at the side entrance. 
Dr. Loane drew back with a muttered curse. We 
stood motionless for a moment. The bell rang 
again, insistently. 

"You, you keep quiet now. Remember what you 
are," he hissed, and strode to the door. 

I lost no time in dashing to the garage, where I 
found Dan tinkering with the car. 

"Come, Dan, quick! Let's get out of here," I 
cried. 

"What's up, Ethel"?" He came out wiping his 
hands on a piece of waste. 

"Never mind an explanation. I'll tell you later." 
I spoke imperiously. "Get the wheel now and don't 
stop to talk." 

We started in the direction of the business section 
of the city. 

"I think we had better take the wheel over by the 
railroad yard, Dan, and see if you can't arrange for 
us to take a freight out of here. I'm a trifle nervous 
about that old beast of a doctor. He impressed me 

[77] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

as the kind of man to make us trouble if possible, 
have us arrested or something." 

At the station I waited for Dan to see what ar- 
rangements he could make. In a few moments he 
returned to the waiting-room door with a troubled 
countenance. 

"A freight is going to pull out in about an hour, 
but I haven't been able to make any impression on 
the crew. You know, the rules are pretty strict 
against carrying passengers on freight trains and the 
boys are afraid of their jobs. I think we'd better 
give up the idea and ride out on the bike. I cached 
it down at the end of the yard." 

"I think I'd better talk to the trainmen, Dan," I 
replied seriously. "I'd like to get away as soon as 
possible. I am afraid the doctor may make trouble 
for us." 

We walked up the track to where a freight engine 
was puffing back and forth placing cars in a long 
train, like a fussy old woman stringing beads. A 
lean-jawed man in blue denim with a conductor's 
cap pulled over his eyes turned at our approach. 

"Good evening. Conductor," I began, looking him 
full in the face. "We have no money and we must 
get out of this town immediately. I should like to 
put our bicycle, which is down at the end of the yard, 

[78] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

in some empty car that you are going to take out 
to-night, and get a lift for fifteen or twenty miles." 

His keen grey eyes bored into mine. "What's the 
trouble that you got to get out of town? Been hold- 
ing up somebody?" he queried gruffly. 

"My husband and I rode into town this morning 
and started to hunt work as usual. We stopped at 
a doctor's house over on the north side, Doctor 
Stanchley Loane's, and he gave us work for the day. 
His wife was out, my husband was cleaning the auto 
in the garage, and while I was at work in his private 
office, he attacked me. I gave him the slip and 
got away. Now, if we ride the wheel out of town, 
I'm afraid he'll make trouble for us. He expects 
us to go that way." 

"The old son-of-a " the conductor stopped 

abruptly. "He's a bad egg all right. We all know 
that, but I scarcely thought he'd dare go so far. Of 

course, your being a sort of hobo " He stopped 

again. "Reckon he didn't take a very close look at 
those shoulders of yours, or he wouldn't have tried 
to get fresh. Well, we'll see what can be done. 
Where did you say your wheel is?" 

Dan described its location. 

"All right. You go there and be ready. We'll 
shunt an empty down that way and when the coast 

[79] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

seems clear, you pile aboard and lie low. It's a risky 
business, but it's all in a lifetime." He turned away 
and began signalling the engineer. 

Dan and I scuttled down the track. When we 
had the wheel in hand, ready for loading, he turned 
to me. 

"Did that old devil actually try to lay hands on 
you*? Why didn't you tell me when you came out 
to the garage? I'd like to go back and crack his 
nut for him." 

"I'm glad enough to get out of the nasty scrape 
without any skull-cracking. You must remember 
that we are looked upon as hoboes, and hoboes have 
no rights. I do wish the men would hurry with 
that car." 

As though in answer to my thought, a box car 
rolled gently down the track and came to a stop not 
ten feet from where we waited. 
' "Good shot," said Dan as we slid back the side 
door, which was ajar. 

A long look around and I scrambled in, while Dan 
hoisted up the wheel and quickly followed. The 
bottom of the car was packed solid with radiators, 
which were piled almost to the top in the rear end, 
each tier held in place by heavy braces. We stacked 

[80] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the tandem in a convenient corner and crouched in 
silence on the crates. 

Soon there came a clinking rumble, there was a 
slight jar, and our car moved up the line to take its 
place in the outgoing train. 

An hour or more passed while the train roared 
on. Dan sat by the door, while I, lulled by the 
clank of wheels and the panting breath of the engine 
that was whirling us homeward, leaned against the 
radiator braces in the centre of the car and lost my- 
self in dreams. 

Came a shriek of the whistle, a grinding crash, 
and the floor of the car seemed to buckle under me 
while something dealt me a terrific blow between the 
shoulders, lifting me clear into the air and flinging 
me headlong against the front timbers. 

Consciousness struggled back from the void of 
nothingness and I heard Dan's agonised voice in 
my ear. 

"My God, Ethel, speak to me. Are you hurt? 
Oh, she doesn't answer ! She can't be dead ! Ethel ! 
Ethel !" 

As he dragged my limp body toward the door a 
flaming torture seared my lungs, my mouth filled 
with a hot, brackish fluid. "Wait," I gasped, half 
strangled. "Let me rest a moment. I'll be all right 

[81] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

in a minute." He must not know my plight. I 
turned my head away as his groping fingers caressed 
my hair," thankful for the thick darkness as I freed 
my mouth of blood. 

"Oh, thank God ! Thank God !" he was whisper- 
ing softly as he tried to lift me in his arms. 

"Let me lie flat for a little while, dear. Then 
I'll get up. Are you all right?" 

"Yes, I'm O. K. It wasn't a regular wreck. We 
must have run into something. The shock threw 
the radiators about. The air seemed full of them, 
but I got off scot free. You and the tandem and 
the radiators were all in a scramble. I thought I 
should never get you out. You're sure you are not 
hurt?" 

"I feel rather shaken, but I believe there is noth- 
ing serious the matter. I had a rap that put me out 
for a few minutes, that's all." 

"What happened?" called Dan to the conductor 
who approached with a lantern as I finished scrub- 
bing the blood from my face. 

"A drunken bum stalled his team on the crossing. 
The engine rounded the curve and was within a 
hundred feet before Sam saw the wagon. The good- 
for-nothing sot was off in front of the horses, else 
he would be in kingdom come. How did you come 

[82] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

out? Did it shake you up much when Sam set the 
emergencies ?" 

. "My wife had a pretty thorough pounding. The 
blamed radiators broke loose and piled up in the 
front of the car. Guess we'd better try another 
Pullman or clear out altogether. What do you want 
to do, Ethel?' 

"Oh, let's ride as far as we can. Even a freight 
train covers ground so quickly compared to our slow 
old wheel." 

"All right, but we'd better hunt another carriage." 

The conductor stood hesitating. "This radiator 
car is billed straight through to Frisco," he informed 
us. "I picked her out for that reason. There ain't 
many cars left open like she is. Don't know how it 
comes she ain't sealed shut. But if you have real 
good luck, you might be able to skate right through 
to Frisco in a week or ten days. It'll be a pretty 
rough trip, but if you want to get to Cal in a hurry, 
it'll beat pumping a bike." 

"Oh, Dan, we must try it. I'd ride the bumpers 
or the cowcatcher to get home in a week," I cried, 
forgetting my pain in such a joyful prospect. 

"It seems a trifle risky to trust those radiators 
again, but you're the doctor, so here goes." 

As Dan settled down beside me the conductor 

[83] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

slipped a bill into his hand and ducked away. 
The engineer signalled that he was ready to be off. 
When the train took the next siding to permit re- 
pairs on the engine, Dan secured a lantern and we 
straightened our tangled possessions and made our- 
selves as comfortable as possible for the night. 

I was glad when Dan slept, for I feared he would 
notice my restless seeking for some posture in which 
I could forget my aches and pains in sleep. But 
my hopes were in vain, for mind and body conspired 
to hold my nerves at a tension. The events of the 
day, which seemed of a month's duration, formed a 
kaleidoscopic jumble in my brain. 

Morning dawned at last and I lay prone on the 
radiator crates, while Dan busied himself with the 
tandem, which had also suffered in the melee of the 
evening before. 

It was nearly dark when we pulled into the rail- 
road yard at Des Moines. Our car was switched off 
the main track, and Dan immediately got out to 
purchase provisions for the western trip. Trembling 
at every noise, I awaited his return, and it was not 
long till he was back with an armful of bundles and 
a kettle of water. Another train was being made 
up and soon our car was shunted into place. The 
engineer had given the signal for the crew to assem- 

[84] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ble and my breath had begun to come easier, when 
the door was jerked open and a man thrust in his 
head. 

"Hey, yous! Come out of that," he snarled. 
"Here, Tim, I've found a couple of boes. Come on 
out now," as we made no move. "If you don't, 
you'll wish you had in about two seconds." 

Slowly Dan clambered out. I followed. 

"What to hell have we here'? Blamed if it ain't 
a woman!" the detective cried. 

Tim, meanwhile, advanced with a lantern, and 
having given us a close inspection, leaped into the 
car. 

"What in blazes is this?" he exclaimed, catching 
sight of the wheel. 

Dan explained shortly. 

"Well, yank her out of here. This car moves in 
about two minutes." 

Dan sprang inside and lowered the wheel to me. 
Tim threw our bundles to the ground. "Toot, toot," 
whistled the engine. The train pulled out. 

As the familiar car moved away, my heart seemed 
breaking. All my hopes of reaching California in a 
few days crashed to the ground; thoughts of the 
fierce railroad detectives, the waiting jail, the court- 

[85] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

room in the morning, surged over me. I burst into 
tears. 

"What ya goin' t' do wid 'em, Joe^ Run 'em 
in?" queried Tim. 

"Naw, don't believe I will. Come, now," turning 
to us. "Beat it out o' here and don't let me catch 
yous fooling around this yard any more. Go on. 
Beat it quick." 

Glad enough to escape, we stumbled up the track 
through the darkness. 

"Aw now, aw now," said a hoarse voice at my 
elbow. "It's pretty fierce luck, all right. But never 
you mind, lady, we'll get you out of here all right. 
Just come right along to our shack and we'll fix you 
up fine." 

In a few minutes we came to a tiny one-room 
shanty, formed from an old car, which was fitted up 
with a stove, bunks, a table and chairs. My kindly 
guide set out soap, clean towels and a fine, big basin 
of hot water. What luxury I I plunged my grimy 
hands into the grateful depths and laved my black- 
ened, tear-stained face. 

When Dan had made a refreshing toilet, we sat 
down to the first real meal in two days. Our friends, 
the car inspectors, watched us eat with much satis- 
faction while discussing the best method of getting 

[86] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

US safely out of Des Moines. Picking up his switch- 
man's lantern, one stepped out and soon returned 
with the report that an empty car would go out in 
a freight that left about two o'clock. 

The men conducted us by a circuitous way to a 
cattle car, the bottom of which was covered with a 
thick layer of clean straw. The detectives had al- 
ready examined and passed this car, so under the 
protection of the car inspectors, it was quite safe to 
climb aboard. Our wheel was hoisted in and laid 
flat in a corner, and after an attempt to express our 
gratitude — really too deep for words — we ourselves 
lay down and were well covered with straw. I fell 
asleep immediately. 

The rays of a lantern, which was thrust within a 
few inches of my face, aroused me. The train was 
grinding to a stop, and as I blinked stupidly in the 
sudden light, I heard voices deep in argument. 

"I tell you, they're no spotters. She has an honest 
face." 

And another voice answered, "Well, let 'em ride 
to the next station and ask 'em a few questions." 

The lantern flashed the signal, and once more we 
were under way. 

The "brakie" settled himself in the straw. Dan 
produced his union card, our marriage license and 

[87] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Other papers to prove our identity; the wheel was 
uncovered for inspection, and a few questions con- 
firmed the brakeman in his opinion of our honesty. 
At the next stop the conductor joined us and agreed 
to move us into a closed car before daylight. 

So to-day we rest in comfort and despite the ache 
of bruised and stiffened shoulders I am happy in the 
thought that to-morrow's dawn will see us close to 
Council Bluffs. 



[88] 



EIGHT - 

June jrd^ 
Somewhere in Nebraska. 



EIGHT 

June jrd. Somewhere in Nebraska. 

At last I know the joys of domestic service. The 
pleasures of the "hired girl" and all the privileges 
and emoluments pertaining to her high estate have 
been mine. 

Our good friends, the train crew, who carried us 
out of Des Moines, dropped us off at the first little 
station east of Council Bluffs early in the morning 
of May 15th. We determined to cycle into town, 
get breakfast and look for work. We were making 
good time and had entered the suburbs when, as we 
spun around a corner and approached a large red 
house, surrounded by a tall hedge, a series of brain- 
piercing shrieks rent the air. My control of the 
wheel was none too steady that morning and the 
shock was too much for frayed nerves and stiffened 
muscles. The tandem took the bit in its teeth and 
in a jiffy had buried its nose in the thick branches 
at the base of the hedge. I landed on my feet, and 
through a break in the shrubbery saw the cause of 
the commotion. 

[91] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

In an angle of the enclosure a red hen was flapping 
and squawking, her brood of downy chickens dashing 
hither and thither, pursued by a large mongrel dog. 
Within a high wire fence, evidently the chicken 
yard, a moon-faced woman stood like a marionette, 
her fat hands shooting into the air with a rhythmic 
precision which synchronised perfectly with the 
dropping of her lower jaw which opened widely with 
each vocal effort. 

As I stared, the dog captured a tiny chick and 
tossed it high in air. I dashed forward and seized 
the brute by the scruff of the neck and dragged it, 
growling and struggling, to the break in the hedge 
where Dan came to my assistance and sent the ani- 
mal howling down the road. 

I turned back to the frightened brood and was 
joined by the female calliope. Together we gathered 
the cowering mites from their places of concealment 
among the grass and weeds and at last saw the 
mother safe in the coop, her decimated family hud- 
dled about her. 

"You know chickens, oh, you know," the lady 
puffed. "These are prize birds — all, all prize stock 
— I paid an outrageous price for them — Tamas said 
it was very shortsighted to do so — but you know 
chickens." 

[92] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"I couldn't Stand idly by while that hateful dog 
mangled the little things," I interrupted. 

''Of course not, with prize stock like these. You 
know, oh, you know." 

Dan approached with the tandem, the front tire of 
which was sadly flattened. 

"Got a puncture when you rammed the hedge. 
Guess we'll have to camp here till I can patch the 
inner tube. Maybe you can buy a few eggs and 
cook breakfast. Pm nearly starved." 

"Not these eggs. Not these eggs. These are all 
prize stock, every one a prize winner." The arms 
of the moon-faced madam made an upward sweep. 
I clapped my hands over my ears instinctively. But 
a compassionate Fate in the shape of a young girl 
intervened. 

"Breakfast's ready. Ma'am," she sang out. "Mr. 
MacBride says he will be right in." 

A tremendous struggle was mirrored in my lady's 
open countenance. She looked at the "prize chick- 
ens," turned toward the house, shot a covert glance 
at Dan, gazed anxiously at the chickens again. It 
was a solemn moment. But fear and hospitality 
triumphed. 

"Maybe you better come in. I don't know what 
Tamas will say. But the dog would have killed 

[93] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

more — all prize stock — so shortsighted of me . . ." 

Thus rambling on, she led the way into the house, 
while the maid stared unbelievingly. It came my 
turn for wonderment when I caught sight of the 
breakfast table. It was loaded with great bowls of 
oatmeal, cream, sausage, eggs, potatoes, and a heap- 
ing plate of graham or oatmeal gems. An odour 
of hot cakes spoke of more food to follow. 

"You must wait till Tamas has finished. Just 
sit down here. I hear him coming now." 

Our hostess turned in much agitation as a long, 
cadaverous individual entered the door. He halted 
and fixed us with a hostile glare. 

"Now, Tamas, now — this lady saved my prize 
doggins from a chick — oh, dickens from a chog — oh, 
oh, what am I saying I" 

Dan uttered a strangled snort. The mingled hor- 
ror and wrath on Tamas' face was indescribable. 
His unfortunate wife once more essayed an explana- 
tion. 

"He — he was going to suck the eggs. But I told 
him they were all — all prize eggs. Then I thought 
it best to bring them in here." 

"Probably under the circumstances it was the 
safest thing to do, ah. So you go about the country 
begging, do you'?" He turned to Dan. "I am sur- 

[94] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

prised, surprised and pained. Your wife — I pre- 
sume she is your wife^ — appears quite intelligent, 
ah," He dragged out each word as from the depths 
of ultimate wisdom. 

"Well, I'll admit that my wife does show gleams 
of intelligence at times," Dan responded gravely. 

''Those thoroughbred fowls are provoking, most 
provoking, ah." Mr. MacBride turned to his pal- 
pitating wife. "You see, my dear, how very short- 
sighted it was of you to bargain for them while I 
was in Omaha. Such a waste and loss — no profit. 
I shall be compelled to foreclose on old lady Mar- 
tin's poultry farm next week, which will give us 
some of the finest fowls in this county, — and at ab- 
solutely no expense for feed and care, no bother, no 
annoyance. All profit, clear profit, mark you that." 

He licked his lips physically and metaphorically 
as he seated himself at the table and attacked a bowl 
of oatmeal and cream. His performance reminded 
me of a dredger I once saw at work in the Sacra- 
mento Valley. The spoon work was wonderful — 
his only rival in endless chain effect being a China- 
man with chopsticks. 

The girl removed the empty bowl and replaced it 
with a plate heaped with sausage, eggs and fried 
potatoes, which Mr. MacBride fell upon with un- 

[95] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

diminished zeal, his wife meanwhile plying us with 
questions. 

"You, I take it, are presumably working people — 
that is, you will no doubt accept employment if such 
is presented to you," he began after a prolonged 
period of uninterrupted labour. "Now, there is one 
grave failing to which the working classes of America 
abandon themselves, ah. They eat too much." 

With consummate skill he flipped into his thin- 
lipped, rapacious mouth an enormous forkful of 
sausages and potatoes, which he swallowed at a 
single gulp. 

"I have read scientific articles, articles written by 
experts, which prove with mathematical accuracy 
that a workingman can live comfortably on nine 
cents a day, ah." 

"Tamas knows, oh, he knows," chirped his wife 
delightedly. 

"But the average workingman's outlay is far, 
far beyond reason. This whole nation is suffering 
from extravagance and overfeeding, ah." 

"But thousands of people, in the cities especially, 
eat scarcely enough to sustain life," I ventured. 

"Slums, bah, slums, human dregs unworthy of an 
intelligent man's consideration. Of course, they 
live in poverty. Why not^ It is all their own 

[96] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

fault, — lack of thrift, extravagance and laziness." 
He paused to drain a cup of tea. 

"But there is never any real poverty in the country 
districts. Now this community, for instance, is 
prosperous, most prosperous. I never get less than 
8 per cent, on my loans." 

"That certainly does speak well for the commun- 
ity and yourself," I conceded. 

"I flatter myself that I am a good business man, 
an excellent example of the pure American type, 
conservative, patriotic, a solid all-round citizen. 
But our low, ignorant foreigners must be educated. 
I have endeavoured to collect a fund among our 
leading merchants to secure a teacher to inculcate an 
idea of thrift. Such work should really be done by 
the government. Thrift, ah — the lack of thrift is 
the curse of this nation. Just imagine the business 
gain if our extravagant working class could be 
brought to live on nine cents a day." 

"But I don't understand," I murmured, eyeing 
him with interest. "If your patrons ate less, they 
might save money, and then they would not borrow 
money of you at 8 per cent, interest, and the pros- 
perity of this community would suffer." 

"Not at all, not at all." He leaned forward with 
a first suggestion of -animation. "With the price of 

[97] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

land as it is, the cost of farm implements, the high 
taxes on improvements and the irregularity of crops, 
it is simply impossible for a man of small capital to 
escape a mortgage. Now the point is this. With 
the present high cost of living, the farmer pays even 
a moderate interest of 8 per cent, say, with extreme 
difficulty. But with proper instruction in thrift, I 
have no doubt rates could be raised to 12 per cent, 
and still not prove prohibitive." He paused to but- 
ter a muffin. 

"I hold land that I purchased for a song years ago. 
I hold it unimproved as the advance in land values, 
as the small farmers come in, amply repays me. But 
some of it I subdivided and sold at fat prices. Why, 
one of those farms has been foreclosed on five times 
in the last fifteen years. Each owner has added im- 
provements, of course, but not what they should 
have done. If I could have had a series of really am- 
bitious men on it, I now would own one of the finest 
farms in this section. But my farmers don't seem 
to understand thrift." 

He sighed heavily as the maid set out the remains 
of the meal for our consumption. Dan, no doubt 
deeming imitation the sincerest flattery, seemed bent 
on equalling his host's remarkable performance as 
trencherman. Mr. MacBride eyed each mouthful 

[98] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

with scowling anguish, while with each succeeding 
minute his wife's agitation increased. 

"Really, my good man, your appetite is excessive, 
positively abnormal. I had thought of permitting 
you to work a few days for your board and lodging, 
but that is manifestly impossible. It would never 
do. Moderation, my good man, moderation should 
be the keynote in all things." 

We passed from the MacBride domicile in com- 
parative quiet. 

Dan soon had the puncture repaired and the wheel 
ready for the road. We mounted and presently were 
gliding through the streets of Council Bluffs. 

A few hours' inquiry convinced Dan of his in- 
ability to get work at his trade, but he heard that 
there was a chance of employment on a truck farm 
east of town, so we rode out to locate the place. 

After some argument, we were engaged, I to do 
the housework, Dan to work in the fields. The 
farmer first offered a dollar a day between us, but 
we finally secured a dollar and a half a day and 
board. We were immediately put to work tying 
bunches of radishes, onions and other vegetables 
for market. 

About ten in the evening, as we went to the bare 
room assigned us, the woman handed me an alarm 

[99] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

clock set for four A. M. with orders to serve break- 
fast promptly at five so the men could be at work by 
five-thirty. 

Nightmare days followed. Always up at four in 
the morning, I was kept constantly at work until 
after I had cooked the nine o'clock supper for two 
men who made the late trip to town each evening. 

The house was a large one. There were four chil- 
dren, the man and his wife, an old aunt and five 
hired men besides Dan and myself to cook for. The 
laundry had remained undone since the last girl left, 
and present opportunities were not to be overlooked. 
Such heaps of soiled clothing I never saw before. 
Then, when cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing 
were done, if perchance there was half an hour to 
spare, I was set at the never-ending task of tying 
vegetables. On Sunday the mistress of the house 
wanted to know whether I could darn stockings, as I 
ought to be able to do a good deal of mending on 
that day. To cap it all, the couple quarrelled con- 
stantly, nagged the children and one another and 
railed at the poor old aunt by the hour. When not 
so engaged, the woman would snoop through our 
scanty belongings, ask me all manner of personal 
questions and follow me about with talk of the good 
home she was giving me and how few people there 

[lOO] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

were who would take tramps and hoboes right into 
their own comfortable houses and care for them. 
Poor Dan was driven like a slave from dawn till 
dark and after, so at the end of a week, we concluded 
to take to the road once more. 

When Dan informed the man of our intentions 
and asked for our money, such a storm of invective 
was loosed as is seldom heard. We were lazy, good- 
for-nothing bums who were too shiftless to do hon- 
est work, but wanted to live off thrifty, economical 
people who had some ambition in life. The woman 
declared that I was an ungrateful dog — only she did 
not say dog, but referred to the female of the species 
— that I had imposed on her hospitality for a whole 
week, but she supposed that was all one could expect 
for trying to do a good turn to dirty sewer rats. 
The man then burst into shocking profanity, which 
Dan cut short by suggesting the imminence of a stiff 
punch on the jaw. 

As we were riding away from the "good home," I 
recalled experiences related by servant girls with 
whom I had come in contact in the practice of my 
profession. I remembered the little maid who was 
on duty habitually sixteen hours a day in the man- 
sion of a San Francisco millionaire. She became 
violently insane and was sent to the Napa State Hos- 

[lOl] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

pital. I thought of the great number of household 
workers to be found in such institutions, and of the 
terrifying increase in insanity. Then my thoughts 
turned to those who go astray and others who lead 
lives of shame, and the large percentage that are 
recruited from the ranks of servant girls. My mind 
dwelt on the attitude of friends who counted the 
"good home" given a girl a large part of her reward 
for service rendered. 

A good home. What is it*? Food and shelter'? 
Yes. But it is something more. Personal comfort, 
the exercise of individual taste in the choice of one's 
intimate surroundings, the joy of ownership, the 
privilege of entertaining one's friends, a sense of 
privacy, a certain liberty of habits — all these, added 
to that greatest of all great gifts, love, and the 
presence of the loved ones, make a true home. 

We were approaching the Missouri River when 
black clouds heaped themselves across the horizon, 
and soon blasts of wind and rain forced us to seek 
the shelter of a rude shack on the river bank. A 
bent, white-bearded man opened the door and in- 
vited us in with all the warmth and grace of real 
southern hospitality. There was scant room for 
[102] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the wheel beneath the tiny porch, and the two 
rooms were already over-crowded. 

A feeble old lady, swathed in shawls, sat in a 
rough box chair at the window. A young girl with 
a baby but a few days old on her arm lay on the 
bed, while a woman, evidently the daughter of the 
old couple, fussed about her. A tall, incredibly 
lanky girl was kept busy placing pots and pans to 
catch the drippings from the roof, which leaked 
in a dozen places. 

In ten minutes we were chatting as freely as life- 
long friends. The old man was a Confederate vet- 
eran, who had been wrecked financially and physical- 
ly by the Civil War. He and his invalid wife had 
moved by degrees from Kentucky across Illinois 
and Iowa to their present location. One child only 
had survived the many privations. She had mar- 
ried young and been left a widow with two little 
girls. The eldest of these, the pale girl in the bed, 
had married a youth of eighteen when little more 
than a child. The baby which formed the fourth 
generation in this home of poverty awakened with 
a feeble wail. The mother showed me the wriggling 
red mite with an air of pride, but suddenly she 
turned her head away and burst into tears. 

"Oh, Tony, Tony," she moaned, "how can they 

[103] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

keep you away from your own beautiful baby boy*?" 

"Her Tony's in the jail," the old man volun- 
teered with slow bitterness. "In the jail because he 
couldn't see his wife and unborn baby starve. We 
had bad luck last winter. I'm an old man. My 
right hand never has been worth anything since the 
War." He extended his withered arm, drawn and 
distorted by an old wound. "I've done all I could, 
but work is scarce for such as me." 

"Folks won't give Grandpap a job. They call him 
an old Copperhead." The younger girl spoke for 
the first time. 

"I fought for the South. I love her. Should my 
great-grandchild be starved for that?" 

"The children had typhoid fever, Tony and Sadie 
and Stella." The quiet, brown-eyed widow took up 
the story. "Tony took sick at the camp — he'd only 
been there a few weeks — and came home the last of 
October ready to die. Sadie took it next. She was 
carrying little Tony and it went hard with her. Then 
Stella came down. I thought we would lose them 
all. We had no money for anything. It was weeks 
and weeks before Tony got better and then he wasn't 
strong. I took in washing when the worst was over, 
and Pap did all he could. Tony, he's an orphan 
[104] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and Italian besides, — a Dago they call him." Her 
voice trailed off despondently. 

"Tony is as good an American as ever lived," 
Sadie spoke up fiercely, "a sight better than the 
scrubs around here. Supposing his folks was Ital- 
ian. What difference does that make*?" 

"Tony got work teaming," the old man spoke 
again. "We had no food in the house, the weather 
was cold, Sadie was weak from the fever and cry- 
ing with hunger all the time. He got to taking 
things from the cars and bringing them home. One 
time he brought a case of canned soup. How the 
girls did go for it. It was their salvation. 

"Then one night it was snowing hard. Tony 
came in all tuckered out — he never was one of these 
husky boys — and he was sitting over the stove, with 
Sadie trying to cheer him up. All of a sudden the 
door flew open with a bang and in walks a couple of 
men — didn't knock or nothing, just walked in — and 
put the handcuffs on him and dragged him away. 
I'll never forget his black eyes, looking so big in 
his white face as he stared back at Sadie who had 
fallen in a faint." 

"And now he's in jail, my Tony. He never knew 
what it was to have a single soul to love him till 
he met me. Just an orphan and a bound boy. He 

[105] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

was always so good to me, working hard for a home 
and children. And now he can't see his own son. 
Oh, Tony, Tony!" She flung herself about in 
agony. 

"Hush, honey, hush. Think of little Tony. 
You'll poison the milk if you take on that away." 

The frail mother quieted her grief and clasped 
her baby in an ecstasy of mother-love. "I must 
take good care of you, mother's little angel. Daddy 
will come back to his own little baby-boy some 
day." 

The rain had stopped, so we said good-bye to the 
unfortunate family and resumed our journey. 

''There is no real poverty in the country districts, 
is there now^" I remarked as we pushed the wheel 
along the sloppy road. 

"Oh, Tamas knows — he knows," returned Dan 
grimly. 

The old Confederate had told us of another truck 
farm not far distant where we could probably find 
employment, so we located a convenient clump of 
willows and made camp for the night. 

Early next morning we applied for work at the 
farm and were set to the task of weeding onions, 
ten hours' work for a dollar a day and board. Slowly 
the hours dragged past. The noon hour found me 

[106] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

far too weary to eat, so I flung myself face down 
under a tree, while Dan sought the cook house with 
the other hands. 

Once more I began work on the interminable rows. 
The sun beat down with intense heat, my back 
seemed literally broken. As I weeded in a daze, a 
peculiar illusion took possession of my mind. I saw 
a cosy room in San Francisco, caught a whiff of 
cooling, bracing fog, fresh from the Pacific, heard 
the unctuous tones of a well-groomed, fat-jowled, 
long-haired gentleman who was declaiming to a 
group of adoring females lengthy verses of his own 
composition on the "Joy of Labour." Oh, grave 
and paunchy poet, would that thou wert here to busy 
thy soft white hands with gummy weeds and thistles 
and reap a harvest of joy and onions in my stead I 

About three o'clock something happened. I found 
myself lying under the tree at the side of the field, 
with Dan pouring water over my face. 

"What's the matter, Dan?" I demanded, bewil- 
dered by my new and strange sensations. 

"Oh, nothing much. You pitched forward on 
your head about half an hour ago and I thought you 
would never come to. You mark my words now. 
This ends it. You don't do any more weed pulling 

[107] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



or washing or scrubbing on this trip. If I can't earn 
the living I'll beg or steal." 

"It was my back, dear. I haven't recovered from 
the thump I got that night in the radiator car. As 
soon as that spot gets well, I'll be able to do any 
kind of work." 

"You may be able, but you won't do it. I'll see 
to that after this. You lie here and meditate on 
what I've been telling you while I finish this in- 
fernal day's work. We'll beat it into Omaha in the 
morning and I'll look for a white man's job." With 
a farewell pat he returned to the weeding, leaving 
me to fall asleep in utter exhaustion. 

We trundled over the long bridge across the Mis- 
souri River and passed through Omaha early the 
following morning. In a grove of trees on the west- 
ern outskirts of the city, Dan pitched camp and 
made me as comfortable as possible, then mounted 
the wheel and rode into Omaha to search for work. 

I was stretched full length on the ground, enjoy- 
ing the rustle of the wind in the tree tops and the 
murmur of a tiny brook, when my attention was 
attracted by the sound of footsteps and a moment 
later a dainty child in a blue pinafore appeared at 
the edge of the little hollow. I smiled a welcome 

[108] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and she came closer and leaned against a near-by 
tree. 

*'Are you having a picnic all by yourself?" she 
asked, fingering her apron. 

"Yes, a kind of picnic. I'm all by myself be- 
cause my husband has gone to Omaha. You come 
over here and sit down by me and then I won't be 
lonesome any more." 

She approached and snuggled by my side. We 
introduced ourselves and soon were deep in an inter- 
change of confidences. She located various birds' 
nests for me, described the latest family of kittens, 
discussed the number of eggs laid by her white pul- 
let and many other matters of interest. Then I 
noticed that she seemed uneasy, examining our lug- 
gage with searching glances. Finally, eight-year-old 
flesh and blood could endure no more. 

"Is the picnic in that bundle'?" she asked wist- 
fully. "When are you going to cat it?" 

"There isn't very much in that bundle. All I 
have is bread and butter, but I'll get you some of 
that," I replied, sitting up. 

Her face fell, then brightened. "I know what 
I'll do," she cried, springing to her feet and clapping 
her hands joyously. I'll run home and ask mother to 
put me up some cookies — and some jam — and some 

[109] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

hard-boiled eggs — and maybe some animal crackers, 
horses, you know, and cows and things — oh, I'll get 
lots and lots of good things to eat, and then I'll 
come back and we'll have the very nicest picnic ever 
you saw in all your life." She danced away with 
fairy-like grace, leaving me to picture her mother's 
expression when informed of the woman who was 
holding a picnic all by herself on nothing but bread 
and butter. 

Some fifteen minutes passed. Then I heard a gay 
"hoo-hoo," and down the hillside came my girlie, 
skipping up and down and hastening the footsteps 
of a woman whom I knew at first glance to be her 
mother. 

"This is Ethel, mother," she cried as I rose to my 
feet. Then turning to me, "Now you can't be lone- 
some any more, 'cause mother's come her own self." 

There are persons to whom no introduction is nee- 
essary; we recognise them at once as old friends. 
Thus it was with Mrs. Patton and myself. She 
was soon in possession of my story and invited me 
to her home to rest and spend as many days as cir- 
cumstances would permit. I pinned a note for Dan 
on the tree trunk, gathered our belongings, and set 
off for the house. Hazel piloted us over the ridge, 
through orchards and across fields until we came 
[no] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

to a long, low farmhouse, cuddling between two hills 
and almost hidden by masses of vines and trees. 

Mrs. Patton was a trained nurse and at once set 
to work to demonstrate her capabilities. She heated 
water, gave me a prolonged hot bath, followed by a 
thorough spine-stretching and massage, tucked me 
into bed, fed me a bountiful lunch, and then left 
me to dream away the afternoon in blissful comfort. 

I awakened about six o'clock, wonderfully relieved 
and refreshed and found that my hostess had sent 
her son to watch for Dan at the cross roads and 
guide him to the house. 

At dinner we were introduced to Mr. Patton and 
John, who were greatly interested in the story of 
our adventures. I told them of the old Confederate 
soldier, of Sadie grieving for her Tony in the jail, 
and they were horrified to learn that such misery 
existed so close at hand. 

"Of course, I've been aware that there were all 
kinds of suffering and wretchedness in the slums of 
large cities," Mr. Patton sighed, ''but I thought 
there was no real poverty in the country districts." 

Dan shot me a covert glance. 

"You'll get the poor man out of jail, so he can 
see his little baby, won't you, father dear?" Hazel 
inquired eagerly. 

[Ill] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

''Well, well. I'll see what can be done. It's a 
shame that such conditions should exist in a country 
as rich as this." 

When we had repaired to the living room, Mrs. 
Patton suggested music, and upon my delighted 
acquiescence, John set the Victrola to playing. Then 
for the first time I recognised one cause of my per- 
sistent heart-hunger. My soul was starving for 
music. Thrills of ecstasy agitated me almost to 
tears as the passionate strains of Tschaikowsky's 
"Melodic" flooded the room with pulsating har- 
monies. Raff's "Cavatina" seemed the divine ex- 
pression of universal longing for home and love — 
heimweh incarnate. 

Once, when we had first moved into Chicago's 
slums, I took my guitar and sang. Simple songs 
came to my lips, lullabies, songs of the South, the 
old, old songs that caress the heart strings. A noise 
at the door startled me. I swung it open and started 
back in surprise. Porch, stairway and area below 
were packed with children all absorbed in my poor 
performance. Many times thereafter I sat at the 
narrow entrance and sang while children and adults 
crowded about, always asking for more. But at last 
the increasing pinch of hunger goaded me into carry- 
[112] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ing the precious guitar, relic of girlhood days, to 
the pawnbroker, there to bid it good-bye forever. 

Millions of acres of land lying barren in the 
hands of speculators, hordes of idle men roaming the 
country in search of employment, tons of delicious 
fruit rotting on the ground in California, hungry 
women, billionaires, destitute children, great masses 
of wealth producers starving mentally and physical- 
ly while the fruits of their labor are denied them. 

Would to God that the people of this nation could 
learn to think! 

Dan's efforts to find work in Omaha were unavail- 
ing, so after another day's rest we struck out on 
the military road leading away from the city. Two 
days' travel convinced us that we were hopelessly 
wrong. 

I now look upon myself as something of an expert 
in mud, and I can truthfully recommend the Nebras- 
ka article to be superior in cohesion, adhesion, weight 
and quantity to any known combination of earth 
and water. After a few hundred yards of travel, 
the wheels and skirt guard would completely disap- 
pear in great masses of reddish adobe, while our 
feet assumed elephantine proportions. Standing first 
on one foot, then on the other, we would rid our- 

[113] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

selves of a few pounds of mother earth and scrape 
the wheel as free as possible from its accumulations. 
A struggle onward of a quarter of a mile forced 
us to repeat the process. 

A day passed — and another. Food ran out and 
farmers refused to sell; there were no stores, and 
the situation grew desperate. 

We approached a school house one evening and 
stopped under a horse shed for the night. The 
teacher was passing and stopped to chat. Later she 
returned with a bottle of malted milk tablets, which 
constituted our evening meal. 

Next morning we turned south to reach the rail- 
road. About one o'clock we came to a little black- 
smith shop, and after some haggling, bought a half 
loaf of mouldy bread for a dime. Pushing on for 
perhaps a mile, we stopped in a lonely spot to make 
tea. Everything was dripping with moisture from 
recent rains, so, despite Dan's vigorous efforts, the 
fire refused to burn. 

We were both on our knees blowing lustily v/hen 
a shadow falling athwart the rack attracted our 
attention and, glancing up, we saw a bareheaded 
man standing with folded arms, fixedly regarding us. 
We sat back and stared, for we had seen no house 
in that vicinity. 

[114] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"When you get tired exercising your lungs," be- 
gan the stranger, "just follow me and get a surprise." 

Thinking that any change must be an improve- 
ment on our situation, we gathered up the cooking 
utensils and obediently dragged the wheel after our 
guide, who plunged into a thick growth of trees on 
our right. 

A few minutes' walk brought us to an immense 
tent, from which issued a great noise of crunching, 
stamping and snorting. Passing around to the far 
end, we beheld, stretching down one side of the 
interior, a long row of horses and mules — ^perhaps 
twenty in number — busily munching their noonday 
feed, while the other side of the tent was fitted 
with a kitchen range, a gasoline stove, cooking uten- 
sils, table and chairs, and in the rear some bunks 
and a great pile of hay. Leading the way through 
the kitchen, the stranger pulled out a curtain strung 
on a wire, closing off the rear compartment, and 
brought a huge kettle of hot water, buckets of cold, 
a large tub, towels and soap, with directions to 
enjoy ourselves while he prepared a meal. And what 
a delight it was to have the use of such conveniences, 
crude as they were. My opinion of "dirty hoboes" 
has undergone a radical change since I have seen 

[115] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

for myself the difficulties that beset the man who has 
nothing, in his efforts toward cleanliness. 

Our ablutions performed, we entered the kitchen 
and found our host deep in the labour of cooking. 
And what a meal he set out. Hot biscuits, mashed 
potatoes, broiled ham and cream gravy, fried eggs 
and a pot of delicious coffee. 

The meal was nearly over before his strange man- 
ner impressed me. Opening a large bread box, he 
took the entire contents and going down the row 
of animals fed the loaves to them, talking mean- 
while in a most astounding fashion. Returning, he 
escorted us to the rear room and insisted on our lying 
down, saying that we must be tired, as indeed we 
were. The words were scarcely spoken when a heavy 
rain beat a tattoo on the tent walls. 

"Confound this weather," began our host, settling 
himself in a chair; "I'm two-thirds crazy now, and 
another three days of this beastly rain will drive me 
completely nutty." 

He held a large contract for road construction, 
the grading outfit was his, and "the darned cat- 
tle were eating him out of house and home while he 
was sewed up by the weather." It seemed the 
grading crew had gone to Omaha to celebrate their 
enforced holiday, but should be back that day. 

[116] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Reaching under the bed, the boss produced an 
empty demijohn and informed us that he had drunk 
the contents to cure the blues. He congratulated 
himself on our opportune arrival, declaring that he 
intended to keep us so long as the rain continued 
as an antidote to loneliness and its alcoholic conse- 
quences. 

Just then the smith who had sold us the bread, ap- 
peared on the scene in search of the usual hospitable 
stimulant. Our host at once produced another demi- 
john and stood treat, imbibing freely himself. While 
the two men were thus engaged, a foaming horse, 
hitched to a covered buggy, dashed up to the tent 
door, and two women followed by a couple of half- 
drunken men clambered out. Fishing under the seat, 
one fellow drew out four good-sized jugs of 
whiskey. 

Night had fallen and the rain was beating heavily, 
but Dan and I exchanged one glance, seized our hats 
and made for the wheel, which stood, still packed, 
just within the entrance. Hastily we backed it out 
and plunged into the Stygian darkness. We had 
covered a bare hundred feet when wild yells and 
shouts for our return showed that our flight was dis- 
covered. The drunken crew came boiling out of 
the tent with lanterns in their hands and rushed 

[117] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

hither and thither. We drew up behind a clump of 
bushes and cowered down with our hearts in our 
mouths. With an oath, the smith discovered the 
track of the wheel in the soft earth and with a howl 
of delight started to follow it. Attracted by the 
outcry, our erstwhile host lunged madly round the 
tent and collided violently with one of the new- 
comers. Over and over they rolled in the mud, curs- 
ing and slugging one another in drunken frenzy. The 
smith paused within a yard of our hiding place to 
watch the battle. The yellow rays of a lantern 
cast a circle of light at the tent door and illumined 
the struggling forms. 

Cautiously we lifted the wheel, and guarding each 
step as best we might, made off in the direction of 
the main road. Doggedly we stumbled on, making 
as rapid progress as the rain and darkness would 
permit, falling at times in the slippery ruts, but 
always driving desperately ahead. 

After what seemed an eternity, a light shone off 
to the left. Following a private road, we came to 
a gate. The shrill bark of a dog sounded from an 
outbuilding. I opened the gate and entered. A cold 
nose touched my hand and I felt the pressure of an- 
other against my skirt. I have no fear of dogs and 
have never been bitten, but Dan is not so fortunate, 

[118] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

SO he remained in the background while I explored 
the premises. Accompanied by the dogs, I marched 
boldly to the front door of a large house and rang 
the bell. It was opened by a man who stared at my 
dripping figure in amazement. His eyes travelled 
from me to the dogs, a Great Dane and an Airedale, 
and I realised the full significance of his glance. I 
explained the situation and asked leave to sleep in 
his barn. 

"Well," he answered uncertainly, "as a rule, I 
never let anybody sleep in my outbuildings, but a 
person who can get past those dogs must be all right, 
so wait till I get a lantern and I'll take you and 
your husband over to the hay mow and make you as 
comfortable as I can." 

He turned into the house and soon came out with 
a lantern and an armful of bedding beneath an oil- 
skin. Calling Dan and quieting the dogs, he con- 
ducted us to a large barn where we were soon set- 
tled for the night and glad enough to be under the 
shelter of a safe roof. 

I was awakened this morning by the romping of 
two kittens and the fox terrier I heard barking last 
night. The sun is shining brightly and everything 
looks fresh and clean after the storm. The farmer 
showed us where to build a fire with dry corn cobs 

[119] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and supplied us with a brimming pan of new milk, 
a basket of eggs and a crusty loaf of fresh, home- 
made bread, for all of which he refused compensa- 
tion. 



[120] 



NINE 

June 6th^ 
With a Good Samaritan. 



NINE 

June 6th, With a good Samaritan. 

While waiting for our things to dry, the day after 
the experience in the grader's camp, we visited our 
host and his family, who were shocked at the dan- 
gers we had encountered unarmed. The eldest son 
brought out a sharp lath hatchet, through the handle 
of which a hole had been bored and a stout leather 
loop attached to slip over the hand. This he handed 
to Dan with the remark that while it could hardly be 
called a deadly weapon, it would do good execution 
in case of trouble and at the same time be useful in 
making camp. Little did I think, as Dan thanked 
him heartily and strapped it on the wheel, how soon 
that hatchet would prove the means of saving my 
life. 

Later in the day we reached the railroad and 
that night camped in a ravine. The next day dawned 
hot and clear. Mile after mile we trudged down 
the track, for the roads were still too wet for riding. 
Houses were scarce and stood far away from our 
course; there were no streams near or other places 

[123] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



to obtain drinking water. Our thirst increased as 
the day wore on, and when at last we saw a farm- 
house in a group of trees some half mile from the 
track, Dan suggested that I remain with the bicycle 
while he crossed the several pastures that lay between 
and brought back a kettle of water. So I sat beside 
the wheel on the edge of the embankment while Dan 
climbed the fence and disappeared in the trees. 

In a few minutes a dreadful commotion arose from 
the direction of the farmhouse. A great, roaring 
voice was booming like a cannon. 

''Get out! . . . ornery hide. You . . ." Inar- 
ticulate outcries and oaths mingled with scattered 
words and phrases. 

I listened appalled. I knew the attitude that 
some farmers maintained towards tramps, and I 
trembled for Dan's safety. The racket increased in 
violence. I became frantic and determined to go 
to the rescue. Unstrapping the hatchet from the 
handle bars, I slipped the thong about my wrist and 
plunged under the railroad fence and across the 
field, determined to take a short cut to the scene 
of combat. Worming a difficult passage through a 
barbed wire fence, I came to a black, sluggish creek 
or strip of mud perhaps eight feet wide, bordered 
by a thick row of trees, whose branches hung low 
[124] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

over the surface. An extremely stout barbed wire 
fence stretched at right angles across this stream and 
joined a similar fence on the farther bank. I paused 
on the brink, for the black, slimy surface was repel- 
lent. The outcries redoubled and from where I stood 
whole sentences became intelligible. 

"Come on now, you . . . son of a gun ! Get out 
of that gate, you. Oh, if I could only reach you 
with a club. I'll shoot your hide full of holes in 
about a minute." 

I gazed anxiously up and down. My only course 
was to wade across. Grasping the hatchet firmly, I 
swung my arms, made a little run, a jump and 
plunged in. Down, down I sank, deeper and deeper. 
I laboured furiously to reach the further bank, but 
my struggles only increased the rapidity with which 
I sank. The thick, black slime rose higher and 
higher about me. I tried to scream, but my parched 
lips could utter no sound. We have no quicksands or 
sloughs in my home country, but I have read of 
such places and heard of horses and cattle and some- 
times human beings going down, never to be seen 
again. I thought of Dan escaping from the farmer 
and returning to find the abandoned wheel. Of his 
wife, there would be no trace. My end would always 
remain a mystery. As the black mud sucked me 

[125] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

down, I could imagine it rising to my chin, my lips, 
my nostrils. I could picture the inky surface closing 
over my head, shutting out the sunlight forever. 

In a frenzy, I threw my arms above my head. 
The blade of the hatchet caught over a bough. Cau- 
tiously I pulled. It held firm. A gleam of hope 
illumined my dark despair. Grasping the handle 
with my left hand, I tried to lift myself out, but 
the slough refused to give up its victim so easily. 
The blade slipped a little. My heart seemed to leap 
from my body. My senses reeled. Fiercely I called 
on all my forces of reason, will and self-control. 

Placing just enough weight on the hatchet handle 
to prevent my sinking deeper, I studied the situation 
calmly. My one hope lay in securing a firm hold on 
the large branch above. 

Little by little I began to spring the smaller shoot 
up and down. Harder and harder I pulled on the 
hatchet, at the same time forcing the blade firmly 
over the limb. The leaves swung closer and closer. 
Emboldened, I worked harder than ever. At last I 
was able to abandon my hold on the hatchet and 
secure a firm grip with both hands on the tough 
wood. 

But the slough dragged me down with a grip like 
an octopus. A ton weight pulled at each foot, my 

[126] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

skirt seemed grasped by a thousand clutching hands. 
And then I gave thanks for my broad shoulders, and 
for the violent exercise of steering the tandem, which 
had developed the sturdy muscles of my hands and 
arms. Slowly, slowly I made headway against the 
treacherous depths; slowly, slowly, the vicious grip 
was broken, till with a gasp of relief I dragged my- 
self out upon the bank. 

I sank down exhausted. 

Then from the farmhouse the undiminished sounds 
of conflict forced themselves into my consciousness 
and suddenly I burned with a reckless berserk rage 
against the whole world. 

Springing to my feet, I hurled myself upon the 
barbed wire fence that crossed the slough, and cling- 
ing with hands and feet to the thorny strands, edged 
my way across. Skirt and stockings were torn in 
a dozen places. My heavy coils of hair slipped 
down. My hands bled profusely. Forcing my way 
through the second fence, I started across the mead- 
ow. As I rounded a clump of bushes a large red 
bull, with head to ground and pawing hoof, 
barred my way. But I was far past caring for such 
as he. 

Snatching up a stick, I began clapping wood and 
hatchet together and charged directly at his lordship. 

[127] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

He stood his ground till the hatchet was almost 
touching his nose, then, with a bellow of fear, turned 
tail and raced across the field with me in close pur- 
suit. Gaining the fence, I tumbled over and ar- 
rived panting at the back of the farmhouse. 

In a beautiful kitchen garden a farmer stood as 
though rooted to the ground with amazement at 
my grotesque appearance, as with hands and face 
streaked with blood, clothing in shreds and bedrag- 
gled with mud, I stood before him with a club in 
one hand and a hatchet in the other. 

Eyes bulging, nostrils flaming, tail in air, a fine 
bull calf was careering madly among the vegetables. 

"Wh — wh — why, my good Lord, woman," began 
the man as he recovered his breath. "What's hap- 
pened to you? Where in the world did you drop 
from?' 

"Where is my husband? What have you done 
to him?" I demanded hotly. 

"Well, now. Let me see." He scratched his head 
perplexedly. "Seems like I recall a man askin' for 
a bucket o' water something like a half hour back. 
Might he be your man now ? I was so plum frantic 
with this here pesky calf, that I didn't pay no atten- 
tion to the man." 

"But who were you going to shoot?" I persisted. 

[128] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"I could hear you swearing clear over to the rail- 
road." 

"Sho, now. Is that so? 'Scuse me. I'm plum 
bad about swearin'. Wife, she's after me all the 
time, too," he apologised. "Now, the wife's right 

set on her posies, and this here calf — 'scuse 

me, seems like I just can't stop cussin' — got in and 
trompled 'em all down, and while I was a trying 
my darndest to get him out, I'll be damned if he 
didn't bust through into the vegetables and cavort 
all over them." 

Meanwhile, the innocent cause of the commotion 
had taken advantage of the lull in the storm to make 
his escape from the garden. 

''You didn't get in the slough, did ye'?" continued 
the farmer, eyeing my skirt. "Didn't ye see all them 
fences'? We had so much trouble with the stock 

gettin' in the hole — 'scuse me, beats the devil 

how those words will come apopping out — that 
we fenced her all in. But what gets me is how 
ye come to get past that bull 'thout being gored to 
death. He's turrible dangerous. That's why we 
got all them high fences about. Kill't two men, he 
did, 'fore I got him. Bought him cheap, but the 
wife just raises a hell of a row — 'scuse me — at 
keepin' him." 

[129] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I asked for water, for my thirst was intense, and 
after drinking deep from the dripping dipper and 
washing off the worst of the blood and dirt, I fol- 
lowed the farmer to the main road, where he pointed 
out a short cut to the railroad. 

There I found Dan rushing frantically about, for 
having found the wheel with the hatchet gone, he 
felt sure I had been kidnapped. 

It seems that he had gone to the house, found the 
farmer chasing the calf, secured the water, then 
thinking it would be difficult to carry the kettle 
through the fences, tried another route and got on 
the wrong road. Before he could find the right path 
and return, I was in the slough. 

We slept that night in a tumble-down shed — or 
rather, Dan did. Each time I dropped to sleep, I 
could feel myself sinking in the slough, and would 
wake up with a start. 

Next day we rode a good deal and covered a long 
stretch of territory. The country was flat and un- 
interesting and my strained muscles occupied most 
of my attention as I tried to confine the rebellious 
wheel to the smoother stretches. 

At noon we pitched camp near the railroad track 
and had the meal well under way when a passenger 
[130] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

train pulled out of a station a mile or two ahead 
and thundered toward us. 

"Look," exclaimed Dan. "What's the matter 
there? The train is going to stop." 

Sure enough, it was losing speed. People were 
thrusting their heads from windows while the fire- 
man was looking back at a group of men on the blind 
end of the baggage car. Just as it ranged alongside 
us, a small figure catapulted from the platform and 
rolled almost to our feet. The train gathered way 
and sped on. 

I rushed forward and fell on my knees beside a 
grimy, tattered boy of some twelve years, who was 
clutching his fiery red head in both hands and curs- 
ing like a pirate. Blood was spurting from a deep 
jagged gash in his left wrist, which he had struck 
against the projecting fragment of a broken bottle 
in his descent. I seized his arm and applied pres- 
sure to control the hemorrhage. He fixed me with 
an uncomprehending glare. Then his eyes fell on his 
dripping arm. 

"Oh, Lord," he gasped, "oh. Lord, I'm bleedin' 
to death — I'm goin' to die. Oh, Ma, Ma." 

"Nonsense, kid, you won't die. That blood looks 
a lot worse than it is. Just be a good boy and hold 
still for a few minutes and I'll fix you all safe. 

[131] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Quick, Dan. Hand me that kettle of boiling water. 
Now, unpack my emergency case." 

By the time Dan had the kit unpacked and con- 
tents laid out the water had cooled enough for use. 
I cleansed and sterilised the wound, tied the artery, 
and soon had the arm bandaged in scientific fashion. 
The boy had made no sound, but gazed in fascina- 
tion at the shining little instruments, the vials of 
antiseptics and rolls of gauze. 

"You see, this case proved useful after all," I 
remarked to Dan as I gathered up the implements. 
'If such things are needed at all, they usually are 
needed badly. This boy would have bled to death 
without proper attention." 

At my words the lad burst into tears. "The 

sons of " he sobbed. "They all jumped me at 

once. They wouldn't let me alone. I wasn't doin' 
no harm. It — it don't cost the old railroad nothin' 
if I do ride the blind. I want to go home. I want 
to go ho — ome." Tears washed pallid channels 
down his sooty cheeks. 

"Do you think you can take a little nourishment, 
young man^" queried Dan as he busied himself with 
the meal. 

The boy checked his sobs. "I dunno what that 
is, but I kin eat any old kind of chuck. You just 
[132] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

try me once and I'll show you. I ain't had nothin' 
but one little old hunk of bread in two days." 

"Well, take this pan of water and see if you can 
remove some of that make-up from your manly coun- 
tenance and then pitch into the grub. I'll die of 
starvation myself if I don't eat soon." 

I set another kettle of water to boil for tea, and we 
all fell to with avidity. 

"Say, I made good time last night," the boy 
volunteered, as he finished his third helping of 
canned beans and bread. "Rode the Overland Lim- 
ited. Gee whiz, but she does burn up the rails. If 
I only could a stuck, I'd been home to-morrow. But 
those boneheads chucked me off this morning. Then 
I landed that old hearse they thrown me off of just 
now. Suppose I'll have to hoof it till night." 

"Why don't you catch a freight'? You wouldn't 
be nearly so likely to get into trouble." 

"Huh, a freight! Me*? Not on your life! What 
do you think I am, a dead one? I'm a live guy, I 
am. No bindle stiff about me. Say, do you know, 
I've beat it clear from northern Wyoming. I've 
been workin' a long time there as a cowboy on a 
great big cattle ranch. Say, that's the life." 

"Seems to me you're travelling in the wrong di- 
rection for a cowboy," I observed. "The cattle 

[133] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ranges all lie west of here, and you're heading east. 
How does that happen*?" 

"Well, you see, Ma she wants to see me, so I 
thought rd make a short trip home. Me and the 
old man had a falling out, and I beat it west. Say, 
do you know, he expected me to milk two cows, milk 
'em and feed 'em and wait on 'em hand and foot. 
No fun nor nothin'. And weed the garden ! Say, I 
bet you never saw as big a garden as we got — great 
long rows — and say, I bet you never saw weeds grow 
as fast as ours do — big, tall weeds. But Ma wants 
to see me, so I gotta go home." 

"Did your mother write to you to come*?" I en- 
quired gravely. 

"No, she didn't write. I've never stayed very 
long in one place so I never wrote to tell her where 
I was." 

"Oh, my! She must be terribly worried about 
you. How long have you been away^" 

"Why, let's see — it must be nearly six weeks now 
since I beat it. I met a gang of hoboes the first 
day I was out and they took me right along with 
'em to northern Wyoming. Say, that's a great coun- 
try, all right, all right. But, of course, when Ma 
wanted to see me I had to leave. 

"I tell you where's a bad town you gotta fight shy 

[134] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of. That's little old Cheyenne. There's a gun man 
there, Jeff Farr's his name. Say, he shoots a Bo for 
breakfast every mornin'. You folks want to watch 
out when you go through. They run you in for noth- 
in' at all. I met a nigger just the other side o' there. 
Say, he was runnin' in circles like a fitty cat. They 
had chucked his pal in the can just for nothin' at 
all — vag charge maybe — and no tellin' when he'd 
get out, and here's this poor coon, can't go off and 
leave his pard, can't find work, can't get nothin' to 
eat, can't do a thing in the world but chase around 
and bawl. Say, I felt awful sorry for that poor 
coon." 

We raided our scanty stores to pack a lunch for 
the boy. I instructed him in the care of his wound, 
described the location of various houses along the 
road where I knew by experience he would be sure 
to find help, gave him a little note of recommenda- 
tion and explanation to use when applying for as- 
sistance, then started him on the way to his waiting 
mother. 

Just at sundown we came to the town of Wood 
River, a place I am destined to remember. Storm 
clouds were piling on the horizon as Dan hurried to 
the shop to buy some meat for supper. While he 
was gone, some Greeks approached and with 

[135] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

much gesticulation endeavoured to explain some- 
thing to me. I gathered an idea of trouble of some 
kind, but exactly what they were driving at I was 
unable to determine. 

We camped on the outskirts of the village, and 
had hardly finished our simple meal when gusts of 
wind and great drops of rain proclaimed the coming 
of the storm. We looked anxiously about for shel- 
ter. There were no barns near, but not far from 
the railroad track stood a house in process of con- 
struction, and while doors and windows were lack- 
ing, the roof and outside walls gave promise of 
sufficient protection. To this we hurried and lifted 
the wheel onto the veranda just as a flood of rain 
burst upon us. After a little search we found some 
nail kegs and sat down in the front room. We 
were dozing when footsteps sounded on the porch. 
I strained my eyes, but could see nothing in the 
pitchy blackness. 

Suddenly a light flashed in my face, the cold muz- 
zle of a pistol pressed my temple, and a hand gripped 
my arm. 

"Get up there. None of your tricks now," snarled 
a harsh voice. 

The flash was turned on Dan, who was ordered to 
throw up his hands by a second man, who flourished 

[136] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

a revolver in his left hand. We stumbled to our 
feet, dazed by the unexpectedness of it all. 

"You're under arrest. Better come quietly," 
growled the first man gruffly. 

Dan tried to explain that we had only taken shel- 
ter from the storm and had no intention of doing 
any damage, but was savagely ordered to shut up. 
Grasping me tightly by the arm, the first fellow led 
the way out of the building and down the road to 
the village. 

Arrived at a tiny, wooden shanty, the man un- 
locked the door and crowded us in. They slammed 
and bolted the door behind us and we heard their 
footsteps retreating up the walk. As we stood, too 
bewildered to move, a match flared in the darkness 
and in a moment the feeble rays of a candle re- 
vealed the interior of the lock-up. It consisted of 
a single room, partially divided by a partition, and 
containing two bunks. On one of these sprawled a 
man, while a big negro held aloft the guttering can- 
dle-end. At sight of a woman the recumbent man 
sprang to his feet and courteously bade us good 
evening. Without further ado or questioning, he 
removed his hat and coat from the bunk where he 
had been lying and suggested that we make ourselves 
as comfortable as circumstances would permit. 

[137] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

At once the negro blew out the candle with the 
remark that we might need it before morning. 

As we settled ourselves as best we might in the 
darkness, flashes of lightning revealed the dimen- 
sions of the one small, barred window, which fur- 
nished all ventilation to the unfortunates within. 
Furniture, drinking water or conveniences were ut- 
terly lacking and my flesh crawled at the thought 
of the straw-covered bunk on which we must rest in 
the confined space. 

Hardly had we lain down, when the door was 
opened and a fifth person was hustled in. Again 
the negro lit his candle stub, and we saw that the 
newcomer was a boy of not more than sixteen years. 

The officers had paused just outside the window 
and one remarked that it was time to go home. There 
were no occupied buildings near the jail and I could 
not help but consider what our fate would be should 
lightning strike the flimsy wooden shack or a fire 
start from match or candle. When I realised that I 
was locked within those constricting walls, it seemed 
that they were crowding in and smothering me. I 
wanted to scream, to beat my hands against the bars, 
but reason forbade. I settled down and strove to 
cultivate the non-resisting attitude of our cell mates, 
but my mind kept busy with the wonders of our 

[138] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

boasted American civilisation that permits such oc- 
currences as this. I thought of the churches through- 
out the land — no doubt there was one in this very 
community — and of the teachings of One who had 
no place to lay His head. 

"I was a stranger and ye took me not in . . . sick, 
and in prison and ye visited me not." 

How many of the good people of the nation have 
ever even so much as thought of visiting those cast 
into their barbaric prisons'? 

At sunrise our jailers returned, unlocked the door 
and set us free. There was no charge against us 
and no legal formalities to go through apparently. 
Retrieving the wheel, we hastened out of town. 

Beside a small house some miles away we stopped 
to get water for breakfast. A motherly woman came 
to talk to us. Hearing of our recent experiences, 
she took us into her home, provided us with hot 
baths, and sent us to bed while she cleaned and 
sterilised our contaminated apparel. Completely 
exhausted, I slept the clock around and woke next 
morning to find my clothing, clean and neatly mend- 
ed, piled on a chair at the bedside. So, thanks 
to our good Samaritan, we are able to go forward 
with renewed strength and courage. 

[139] 



TEN 

A Day in June. 
On the Open Road. 



TEN 

A Day in June. On the Open Road. 

The days go by as in a dream. We seldom see a 
newspaper and seem out of touch with the world. 
At night I am too thoroughly occupied with my blis- 
tered feet or else too busy "spouting for the eats," 
as Dan expresses it, to keep track of diary or cal- 
endar. 

"Spouting for the eats" has come to be quite a 
joke with us. We stop near some farmhouse and 
Dan goes in for water. Presently along come the 
kids and watch our camp preparations with much 
interest. Usually they are followed by father or 
mother, or, perchance, a grown son, who at once be- 
comes absorbed in the tale of our adventures. Soon 
the whole family may be seen crouched around our 
little fire, which illuminates the eager faces as they 
drink in every word with ears and mouth and eyes. 
Dan fumbles about with the camp kettle and I break 
off in the middle of some exciting incident to attend 
to the preparations for supper. Somebody wakes up 
to the need for milk and eggs, which, of course, are 

[143] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

difficult to carry with us. It is usually about milk- 
ing time, and at a word from some grown-up a child 
scurries off and proudly returns with a pail of new 
milk and a hatful of eggs, which he shyly presents 
to me. The eggs are boiled and eaten from the 
shell, and the cocoa made from undiluted new milk 
is a beverage fit for the gods. 

In other instances, we are invited into the house 
and sit down to a real country supper. After the 
meal I resume the interrupted narrative and enter- 
tain our hosts with descriptions of life in Chicago, 
the San Francisco earthquake, and incidents of inter- 
est along the way. Quite frequently I advise a 
change of diet and care for some puny infant, or 
diagnose the case of an ailing mother and risk the 
leaving of a prescription to be filled when we are 
well on our journey. 

Next morning the family assembles to see us start. 
We exchange names and addresses, and as we ride 
away, we feel that a new bond of friendship has 
been established. 

Near a little place called Gibbon our rear tire 
gave out, and while making the change, a farmer 
invited us to his home to eat supper and spend the 
night. After considerable trouble with the wheel, 
we started on shortly after noon next day, but had 

[144] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

not gone far when we saw dense, black clouds piling 
up ahead. We rode hard for some time, then rain 
began to fall and we stopped beneath a cattle shed. 
The rain slackened and we rode on, but had not 
proceeded any great distance when we noticed a 
very severe storm raging in the northwest. 

Soon great gusts of wind came whirling across 
the prairie, while rain and sleet whipped our faces. 
There was no shelter near, so we determined to strug- 
gle on and reach Kearney if possible. A train 
steamed past, with passengers leaning from the win- 
dows and waving their arms in great excitement. 
Glancing about to learn the cause of the commo- 
tion, I looked toward the south and nearly fell from 
the wheel. A cyclone was bounding across the coun- 
try and as I gazed it whirled a building into the air, 
then dashed it to earth, where it flew into a thousand 
fragments. 

Suddenly we were picked up, wheel and all, and 
the next thing I knew, were rolling over and over 
in the ditch at the roadside, while the tandem lay 
twenty feet away. As I struggled to my feet I saw 
another cyclone, which had just given us a playful 
flip, scudding away in the north. Hailstones as 
large as pigeon's eggs now began to pelt us, and to 
add to our discomfort, we found that both chains 

■ [145] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and the steering gear had been broken in the crash 
and Kearney was still at least two miles distant. 

We had pushed the damaged bicycle a scant hun- 
dred yards when a two-seated automobile, guided by 
a man with a white-faced woman at his side, drew 
up beside us. The man invited me to ride into 
Kearney with him while Dan brought in the wheel. 
Dan urged me into the back seat and the machine 
plunged ahead. With a wild yell, the driver whipped 
off his soft felt hat and began to beat the steering 
wheel with it. 

"Whoop-la!" he howled. "Go it, Nellie ! Go it, 
old girl! Show the natives what you can do." 

The car careened from side to side across the wet 
and slippery road. At tremendous speed we struck 
the railroad crossing at a tangent. Tossing us high 
in the air, the machine leaped for the ditch. With 
a powerful wrench the driver whirled the car, which 
poised on two wheels at the verge, then headed 
straight for a telegraph pole on the other side of the 
road. Once more he veered, and the brass hub of the 
hind wheel bit into the wood as we shot past. 

But Providence was with us, and in a few mo- 
ments the car drew up in front of a hotel in Kearney, 
while the half-drunken owner staggered out and, con- 
ducting me within, engaged and paid for the best 

[X46] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

room in the house for Dan and me. The other poor 
woman, who had been picked up from the roadside 
like myself, made her escape. 

Dan came in, drenched and weary from the buf- 
feting of the storm, and threw himself on the bed. 
I heard a terrific, roaring, crashing, rending sound, 
and rushing to the window saw another cyclone 
sweeping through the outskirts of the town. Large 
trees swayed and whipped madly, then were whirled 
into the air. 

"Cyclone! Cyclone! Quick, Dan, here comes 
another cyclone," I screamed above the roar of the 
tempest. 

"Darn the cyclone," Dan replied; "I've seen 
enough for one day." 

Nevertheless, he came to the window just as the 
great, black, swirling funnel passed from view, and, 
gazing at the sky, enquired where all the books had 
come from. Sure enough, something floated in the 
heavens that resembled the scattered leaves of vol- 
umes. An instant later these pages came down and 
disclosed themselves as the sides and roofs of houses. 

Next morning Dan took the wheel to the repair 
shop while I studied the ravages of the storm. No 
lives were lost in that immediate neighbourhood, 
but much property had been destroyed. The brick 

[147] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

foundation of one home had been scattered in every 
direction, while the wooden frame, apparently un- 
harmed, had been set down on its original site. In 
another instance a parlour wall had been neatly re- 
moved and a marriage license torn from the frame 
which still hung in its place, while furniture and 
pictures remained untouched. This peculiar phe- 
nomenon gave rise to considerable comment and 
jokes concerning the domestic felicity of the mar- 
ried pair. 

We were eating our lunch in a vacant lot when our 
friend from Gibbon drove up. He called Dan over 
for a short talk, then drove rapidly away. When 
Dan returned and held out his palm, I cried out in 
surprise, for in his hand lay four shining five dollar 
gold pieces. When we had gone and the storm 
came up, this man had worried over our probable 
fate, and early next morning had driven the twelve 
miles into Kearney to overtake and give us this 
money to ease the journey across the Rockies. Thus 
we were able to renew our shoes and stockings, which 
were in shreds, pay for new parts for the wheel, lay 
in a stock of groceries and still have a little money 
in our pockets. 

If grateful, loving thoughts have power to benefit 
the recipient, then surely our benefactor will receive 

[148] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

some reward, for my whole soul pours itself out in 
deepest gratitude for his gracious, generous act. 

Leaving Kearney, we were able to do a good deaL 
of riding, but suffered severely from heat in the mid- 
dle of the day. For miles we rode beside stock 
fences where groups of horses with heads tossing, 
nostrils flaming, manes and tails floating like pen- 
nons in a breeze, raced beside us to the confines 
of their pastures, there to stand with stamping hoofs 
and outstretched noses, eyeing us with the greatest 
curiosity. Once a steer, grazing by the roadside, 
started to run ahead of us, and lumbered along a 
full mile, then, in a panic of fear, he reared and 
up-ended over the fence in a comical fashion and 
stood blowing wildly, watching his strange pursuer 
glide past. 

The road became wretchedly poor. Again and 
again the wheel would slip into the deep ruts filled 
with choking dust in spite of every effort. In places 
where the surface was hard, innumerable small gul- 
lies from the winter rains crossed at right angles, so 
that riding became unsafe from the strain on the 
heavily-laden tandem. 

Mosquitoes bred in the sluggish streams, full-fed 
by recent storms, and when evening fell surrounded 

[149] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

US in dense clouds. Their bites are almost as pain- 
ful to me as bee stings, raising great, red wheals, 
which itch and burn for days, so that I was nearly 
wild from the irritation. To add to the general dis- 
comfort, my new shoes, which were very heavy for 
the coming trip across the desert, blistered my feet 
atrociously, so that when the rear chain broke in 
crossing a bad gully, I was scarcely able to hobble. 

And each succeeding day made greater demands 
on one's endurance. The country became hilly with 
stretches of treacherous sand. High bench lands, 
seamed with narrow ravines, skirted rugged buttes, 
while to the south and west one caught vistas of 
barren plains. Small farmhouses perched on the 
hillsides, and here and there great fields of grain or 
sprouting corn appeared, with groups of animals 
grazing in the distance. 

Dan had managed to mend the damaged chain, 
but his natural recklessness chafed constantly against 
my caution, so that each steep descent provoked an 
argument. At last I flung discretion to the winds 
and down the hills we flew, bounding from hum- 
mock to hummock, swaying, lurching, recovering our- 
selves by seeming miracles. 

We had been riding across a jutting arm of bench 
land, and as we approached a sharp turn in the road, 

[150] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the ground began to fall away abruptly. I endeav- 
oured to slow down, but Dan was of a different 
mind. Spurred on by his words of ridicule, I per- 
mitted the wheel to gain momentum and we spun 
around the curve at racing speed. 

A tremendously long and steep declivity lay be- 
fore us, the strip of road disappearing from our 
sight in another turn at the bottom of a ravine. My 
heart leaped convulsively as the wind whistled past 
my ears, but I had scant time to coddle fear. The 
strain of handling the heavy tandem at such a speed 
took all my attention. The pitch increased; we 
seemed to fly through space. Then the front wheel 
struck a bed of heavy sand at the curve, and I knew 
no more. 

My next sensation was of a shaking, joggling mo- 
tion and by degrees I discovered that I was lying on 
my back on the bottom of a farm wagon that was 
jolting slowly up a rutty hillside. Dan, very pale, 
was bending over me, and the wheel with twisted 
handle bars and dangling chain was propped 
alongside. In answer to his anxious inquiries, I un- 
dertook a few investigative movements and soon was 
able to assure him that I suffered from nothing 
worse than some severe bruises and slight concussion 
from alighting on my head. He had received a 

[151] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

rather deep scratch in the ineUe^ but otherwise was 
uninjured. 

The wagon turned abruptly and I struggled to a 
sitting posture, as our driver, a lad of some sixteen 
summers, halted his team of mules in front of a 
low, unpainted farmhouse. A motherly woman hur- 
ried out in answer to his call, and in a moment was 
all solicitude. With tender care she guided my 
reeling footsteps into the house and I was soon 
ensconced on the living room lounge while Dan oc- 
cupied a rocker at my side. After seeing that we 
were both as comfortable as circumstances would 
permit, our hostess left the room to prepare supper. 

The outer door swung open and a handsome, blue- 
eyed boy about twelve years old, dressed from head 
to foot in blue denim, passed slowly through the 
room and, with a shy nod to us, entered the kitchen. 
Scarcely ten seconds later the same door opened 
and the boy again appeared and with another lit- 
tle duck of the head disappeared in the rear. I 
was marvelling at the speed he had shown in 
encircling the house in such a short time, when 
the sound of the latch caught my ear and I 
turned to confront the same blue-clad figure. 
But was it the same^ No, this lad was larger. 
It must be a brother. He also passed through 

[152] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and vanished with the peculiar sideways nod. 
Almost before I could wink an eye, his double 
followed, using the identical gesture of his predeces- 
sors. I turned to Dan, who was staring round-eyed 
after the vanishing figure. Just as I opened my 
mouth to address him, the door opened and a fifth 
youth appeared. He too was blue-eyed, blue-clad 
and strikingly good to look upon. Dan rubbed his 
eyes; then ran his hand through his thick curls. 

"That jolt must have done something to my 
brain," he declared with a worried look at me. "Do 
you see whole droves of kids, all looking the same, 
all dressed the same, all acting the same, all going 
from the front to the back of the housed First I 
thought a kid was running round the house to fool 
us. Then I thought I was seeing double, but they 
keep getting bigger all the time, till darned if I know 
what to think. What in blazes do you suppose 
is the matter with me?" 

"It's as much a mystery to me as it is to you," I 
replied. "Whatever it is, it affects us both the same 
way, for I saw them just as you did. There were 
fivt, all dressed in blue, all with blue eyes and light 
hair, and about the same size, though the first 
seemed the smallest and the last the largest. At first 

[153] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



I thought they were twins, but there could scarcely 
be five twins." 

At that instant the boy who had rescued us from 
the roadside appeared, and as he advanced to speak 
to us, another lad, a size larger, entered from the 
kitchen and was joined in a moment by boys number 
one, two, three and four. The room was of fair 
size, but it seemed to overflow with blue-clad youths. 

"Well, what do you think of my little brood"?" 
cried the laughing voice of our hostess, who had 
entered unobserved. 

''Are these all your boys'?" I gasped, gazing at 
her still youthful face and figure. "It doesn't seem 
possible. I had about concluded that the fall from 
the bicycle had affected my brain or my vision; I 
wasn't sure which." 

"Indeed, they are all mine, and not all my family 
either. My two oldest sons are still in the fields. 
I have nine in all. The eldest has just turned twen- 
ty-three, while the youngest two are twelve. The 
next two are twins also, and only fifteen months 
older." 

As the lads were introduced, it seemed that a more 
remarkable, handsomer group of youngsters would 
be difficult to find. In spite of the utmost care, I 

[154] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



was unable to identify the younger ones, so that they 
must linger in my memory as a group. 

All were eager to be of service and assisted Dan 
in putting the tandem in shape for further adven- 
tures. It was with regret that we bade them fare- 
well next morning, and I often think with envy of 
the happy mother of such a delightful family. 

One evening we stood beside the railroad track 
while the Overland Limited shot by. As we crossed 
behind the vanishing train, I saw a strange object 
moving between the rails. Closer inspection dis- 
closed a large terrapin crawling over the ties as fast 
as he could scramble. I gathered him up and took 
him back to Dan. 

"Now for some real turtle soup," cried he, making 
a grab for the creature. But the terrapin resented 
such tactics with so fierce a snap that Dan, perforce, 
released him. 

Sitting beside the campfire that evening, I bored 
a hole in Mister Turtle's shell and attached a stout 
string. Next morning we rigged a large square can 
atop the bedding roll and daily the turtle rode in 
state on a bed of fresh leaves, while at night he was 
staked out in whatever water was available. He 
attracted much attention along the way, for his shell 
was very handsome, but his jaws proved to be so 

[155] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

savage that nobody dared to touch him but me. I 
named him Bird and, while resting, would fre- 
quently take him from his bed and gently stroke 
and tickle his neck or leg, which he would stretch 
out to be petted. 

Some time later we camped on the bank of the 
North Platte River and as usual I staked Bird out 
at the edge of the stream. Next morning I was 
busy with the laundry, so did not call for Mister 
Turtle until nearly noon. What was my amaze- 
ment to find him flat on his back at the extreme limit 
of his string, while a large bird stalked round and 
round him and aimed vicious pecks at the soft folds 
of skin between the edges of his shell. I rescued my 
poor pet, who seemed completely exhausted, and, 
conscience-stricken, loosed the string and gave him 
his liberty. A last glance revealed Bird paddling 
down stream. He will surely be a well-travelled tur- 
tle by the time he reaches the sunny south for which 
he so boldly headed. 

The scene on the river seemed very charming after 
our hot and dusty ride across the arid plain. Masses 
of wild roses in full bloom glowed against the soft 
green background of willows. Birds had woven a 
hanging nest over the water, and the little mother 
sat demurely on the eggs, while her mate swung on 

[156] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

a slender perch and fairly burst his throat with song. 
They reminded me of some wrens a few miles back 
who had built their nest in an abandoned mailbox, 
but I suppose they could scarcely belong to the same 
species. In the rippling water beneath, fish of many 
sizes darted to and fro, while a fitful breeze set the 
silvery foliage to glimmering. 

Reluctantly we said farewell to river and birds 
and roses and, skimming over a long bridge, entered 
a sleepy little town. Here we loaded the wheel to 
the limit with groceries, for the country grew wilder 
each day. 

The weather was fine and we were able to camp 
out in accordance with our original plans. Still, we 
thought it best to follow the railroad as closely as 
possible in the event of more rain and muddy roads. 

While boiling our cocoa in a lonely spot, our at- 
tention was attracted by the fine soldierly figure of 
a man who stood on the railroad embankment about 
fifty feet away, gazing down at us. He was dressed 
in khaki, sombrero, and leggings, and seemed preter- 
naturally tall, silhouetted on the dull red evening 

skv. 

"Hello, comrade," called Dan. "Want a bite to 
eat?' 

The man strode down the bank and approached 

[157] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

our fire. He was tall indeed, with the slim waist 
and long limbs of a track athlete. His smooth, deep- 
ly-tanned skin set off his bright blue eyes and white 
teeth to advantage as a real Tipperary smile curved 
his humorous lips. As he removed his hat, a 
thatch of white hair added an incongruous touch 
to his appearance. 

Squatting on his haunches like one accustomed to 
that posture, he explained that he had just eaten a 
hearty meal, but accepted a cup of cocoa to keep 
us company. After listening to an account of our 
experiences, he stated that he was an ex-soldier, now 
walking from San Francisco to New York on a 
wager. He had made the trip from east to west in 
ninety days and was bent on returning in ten weeks. 
So far he had made good time and felt confident of 
winning. With scant regard for the property of the 
railroad company, he insisted on carrying a great pile 
of old ties to a secluded spot and there started a 
bonfire. When I considered the forty-odd miles that 
he had covered on foot that day, I marvelled at the 
man. When the fire was blazing brightly, we settled 
ourselves on the windward side for a real talk-feast. 

His most exciting adventure on this trip had oc- 
curred far out on the desert when he had been ac- 
costed by three tramps, who demanded the canteen 

[158] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of water that he carried on his shoulder. He un- 
slung it with the intention of sharing the precious 
fluid, but one attempted to snatch it from his hand. 
As they struggled, another approached and struck 
him from the rear with a rock. With a sudden side- 
long leap, he wrenched himself free, and swinging 
the canteen by the strap with all his force, let the 
first man have it full in the forehead. The fellow 
went down without a groan, and with a backhand 
motion, the soldier brought the canteen up and 
around, striking the second tramp on the point of 
the jaw. His companions out of commission, the 
third man took to his heels, while our hero gathered 
up the first hobo, who still lay unconscious, and 
with the aid of the second carried him to the rail- 
road track and there flagged a passing freight, which 
took the two tramps to the next town. 

As the evening advanced, the Irishman entertained 
us with descriptions of the many strange corners of 
the world that he had visited in the service of Uncle 
Sam, and told wild yarns of his experiences in the 
Philippines and in China during the Boxer rebel- 
lion. After a last creepy story of a looted temple 
and a dead Chinese priest, who came to life while 
the foreign devils were holding high carnival, and 
walking into their midst in his grave clothes, caused 

[159] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

them to drop their spoils and flee, we stretched our- 
selves beside the glowing coals and slept. 

The sharp cold of early morning awakened me, 
and heaping the ashes high with dry wood, I kindled 
a fire and started breakfast. Our soldier friend lay 
with head on knapsack, and in the deep relaxation 
of sleep the harsh footprints of the years disap- 
peared and his face looked pure and boyish in the 
soft light of dawn. As he whimpered with cold 
and weariness, I could scarcely restrain myself from 
easing his head with a motherly touch, but con- 
tented myself with covering him with our blankets. 
Breakfast concluded, we prepared to follow our di- 
verging paths. The soldier wrote a note to a pal at 
the military reservation at Cheyenne, commending us 
to his care. Then, as we said goodbye, he thrust the 
battered canteen into my hands. 

"Your need is to come, but mine is ended. Keep 
it in remembrance of me." 

He lifted his hat and was gone. 



[160] 



E LEVEN 

Aboard a Modern Prairie Schooner. 



u 



ELEVEN 



Aboard a Modern Prairie Schooner, 
Dates are a thing of the past along with newspa- 
pers, street cars, electric lights, the hope of a speedy 
arrival in California, and last, but not least, our 
faithful companion, the stout, green tandem. And 
it came about thus: 

We had reached a country of great level stretches, 
with grazing cattle and raw looking farms, of in- 
frequent water and distant ranges of bare, blue 
mountains. Following a barbed wire fence, our road 
turned at right angles to the north, whereas the way 
should have been open straight into the west where 
a more fertile region was blazoned forth in masses 
of green and long strips of yellow. 

We stopped at a rude cabin which crouched, 
mouse-like, at the turn in the road, to fill the can- 
teen. A woman, withered and sunbrowned and worn 
by pathetically futile efforts to maintain a home 
in an unfriendly land, answered my knock. She 
informed us that the fenced range that blocked our 
path was part of a great holding to the south, which 

[163] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

projected a long tentacle to enfold a source of life- 
giving water far to the north. Thus, we needs must 
make a great detour to reach the point to the west 
of us where the highway again took up its march 
toward the setting sun. This strip, it appeared, 
was but a scant three miles in width, and we were 
at once filled with the idea of walking across in- 
stead of riding so far around. After some manoeuvr- 
ing, we succeeded in crowding the wheel beneath the 
barbed strands and set off across the prairie, which 
was almost as hard and bare as the county road. We 
had not gone far when a group of cattle caught 
sight of us and moved up to inspect the strange 
intruders. These were followed by others, which 
seemed a signal to hundreds. Soon a dense mass 
was tagging at our heels and spreading out to right 
and left, while in the distance still more could be 
seen lumbering up to join the herd. A peculiar 
prickling sensation began to manifest itself in the 
region of my scalp. 

"Dear me, I do wish your sweater was blue in- 
stead of red," I observed nervously to Dan. "I be- 
lieve it is making these cattle angry. Do you sup- 
pose they really would attack us?" 

"No, of course not. They are perfectly harmless. 
They don't know what to make of us, that's all, and 

[164] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

their curiosity urges them up to take a good look." 

"Nevertheless, I noticed that he was quickening 
his pace. As for myself, I scanned the distance to 
the boundary fence with anxious eyes. The cattle,^ 
which at first had maintained a respectful distance, 
now began to crowd closer. 

"Please, Dan," I urged, "take off that sweater and 
hide it till we get out of this pasture. I don't like 
the sight of so many cows a little bit." 

"Rats, Ethel, don't be a coward. Who's afraid 
of a few cows"?" 

He turned to wave his hat at the advancing ani- 
mals, stepped into a prairie dog burrow and came 
heavily to the ground. As he regained his feet, his 
features twisted in pain and he caught at the handle 
bars. 

"Gee whiz," he grunted, "I gave my ankle a 
beastly wrench. It hurts like the devil." 

Visions of dislocations, sprains, of incapacitation 
in this God-forsaken spot, flashed before my brain 
as I sank to my knees to learn the extent of the 
injury, the cattle for a moment forgotten. I un- 
laced the shoe, and after a careful examination was 
delighted to find that it was nothing worse than a 
sprain which would doubtless be well in a few days. 

"I'll take the wheel and you sit down while I un- 

[165] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

pack the emergency kit and get out the bandages," 
I remarked, rising to my feet. "I'll just put on 

a " The words froze on my lips. We stood in 

a ring of cattle less than two hundred feet in diam- 
eter. They stood shoulder to shoulder, heads down, 
noses to the ground, blowing, snorting, pawing, while 
here and there some young bull would advance a step 
with tossing head, then pause while the herd moved 
in to join him. Dan broke in on my immobility. 

"We can't stop to bother with my ankle now," 
he muttered. "We must make tracks out of here 
as fast as the Lord'll let us." 

He hobbled on a few steps, leaning on the tandem. 
At once the animals in the rear moved forward, 
while those in front set up a peculiar moaning bel- 
low, which seemed to enrage the whole herd. The 
air vibrated with their bawling. To my affrighted 
eyes the whole plain seemed a solid mass of reddish 
backs and tossing heads. Fragments of what I had 
read and heard of western cattle came to my mind. 
They would attack a man on foot — a person on 
horseback was safe . 

"Get into your saddle, quick," I cried. "It's our 
only chance." 

I steadied the bicycle with a firm hand. "Just get 
on. I'll start it." 

[166] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Dan seated himself and grasped the handle bars, 
while with straining muscles I bent desperately to 
the task of getting the heavy load in motion. The 
tires seemed glued to the rough, uneven surface of 
the prairie, and when at last with sobbing breath I 
was able to leap into the front saddle, we were 
almost on the horns of a heavy animal that blocked 
the way. But to hesitate meant death, so with a 
blood curdling yell I headed full at his nose. He 
crowded aside, I swerved, and we passed between 
the rows of cattle with room so scant that we almost 
brushed the hairy flanks. I could hear the thunder 
of hoofs as the herd got into motion behind us. The 
protecting fence seemed very far away. Bushes 
slapped at us in passing. The difference between 
riding on even a poor road and pedalling over this 
unsurfaced plain, level as it was, became increas- 
ingly evident. And how to cross the fence to safety 
with a crippled man and a laden wheel, even though 
we survived that long, was a problem. The front 
wheel struck a sharp, projecting snag and air hissed 
from the flattening tire. An instant later the rear 
tire also gave way, but we pedalled desperately on, 
bumping along on the rims, which each moment 
threatened to let us down. 

We were nearing the western boundary when I 

[167] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

heard a shout and glancing to the right saw a man on 
horseback tearing down the road in our direction. 
He began swinging his hat and shooting in the air, 
and as the wheel struck the fence, almost throwing 
me to the ground, his horse reared to a stop directly 
before us. To help Dan through, slip under myself 
and drag the wheel to safety was the work of a 
moment and I was free to watch the herd as they 
swerved away to the south. 

"Gosh all hemlock, that was a close shave," gasped 
the cowboy. "How in Sam Hill did you all get into 
such a scrape?" 

As I started to explain, he noticed that Dan was 
lame. He leaped from the saddle and in a trice had 
loaded Dan onto the horse. Then, giving me a hand 
with the wheel, started briskly in the direction of a 
thrifty-looking farm. 

We halted at last beneath a tree at the edge of 
the road. Dan let himself down from his perch, and 
upon my firm assurance that we would be all right, 
our rescuer resumed his interrupted journey. I kin- 
dled a fire, brought water from a well, then sought 
the house, which stood well back from the road, to 
secure the loan of a deep bucket. A timid little 
woman accommodated me without demur; then fol- 
lowed curiously into camp. At once I treated Dan's 

[168] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ankle with a prolonged hot bath, followed by a care- 
ful massage and the application of arnica-soaked 
bandages. The little woman followed every motion 
with the keenest interest, and discovering that I was 
a doctor, burst into a detailed account of an accident 
that had befallen her young son. He had fallen from 
a tree and sprained his wrist, which remained some- 
what stiff. Would I be so kind as to examine it and 
see what was wrong? This I agreed to do before 
leaving, but for the present decided to make camp 
for the night, rest, and calm my quivering nerves. 

Next m,orning Dan was able to get to work on the 
wheel, replacing the ruined tires with extras pur- 
chased in Kearney for some such emergency. Again 
we rested during the heat of the day, and resolved 
to resume the journey next morning. 

The tandem was packed for the road when the 
farmer's wife came hurrying out to remind me of 
my promise regarding her boy. We entered the farm- 
yard, which swarmed with hogs of all sizes, and 
were led to an enclosed shed where I shut in the 
wheel for safe keeping while we entered the house. 

But the lad was nowhere to be found. After an 
hour of searching, the mother, assisted by an older 
brother, dragged the patient, struggling and howling, 
from his hiding place in the attic; then held him 

[169] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

while I discovered a slight displacement of one of 
the small bones of the wrist. This I reduced after 
considerable trouble, due to the boy's unruly tem- 
per, and bandaged the arm as the clock struck eleven. 
The mother then insisted that we stay to dinner and 
as Dan was still rather in need of rest, we accepted 
gratefully. 

The head of the house, a great, burly, red-haired 
farmer, came in with the oldest son, a perfect chip 
off the old block, and we sat down to a repast of 
fried salt pork, fried potatoes, fried onions, hot bis- 
cuits and coffee. 

The meal concluded, the whole family went out to 
see us off. As I rounded the comer of the shed, I 
noticed the door which I had latched so carefully, 
standing open. Then what a sight met my eyes ! 

The wheel lay flat on the floor, groceries, bedding 
and equipment scattered all about, while a shoving, 
grunting, struggling mass of hogs rooted, trampled 
and fought over it. Chains were broken, tires torn 
from the wheels, spokes out, skirt guard bent and 
twisted, while through and over all was cocoa, sugar, 
coffee, plumbago, clothing, oil and pieces of the re- 
pair kit. 

"Haw, haw," roared the farmer, delighted with 
[170] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



the novel sight. "Them hawgs sure have made a 
mash on that there bicycle." 

"Ya, hah. I fixed 'em, I fixed 'em," shrieked my 
erstwhile patient, jumping about in glee. The little, 
woman burst into tears. 

Dan seized a heavy single-tree, which stood in a 
corner, and laid about him fiercely, sending the 
squealing drove pell-mell from the building. Before 
the farmer could stay his hand, he had laid low with 
a broken back a fine young boar. A few moments 
later a sow showed evidences of internal trouble, was 
taken with convulsions, and while we were gathering 
up the almost hopeless wreck, laid down and died, 
much to the grief of friend farmer, whose mirth was 
turned to mourning. Dan declared that the sow had 
swallowed his razor and wanted to hold an autopsy 
on the remains, but was forced to let the cause of 
death stand as acute indigestion. 

The owner of the hogs cursed bitterly as we started 
to drag the poor old wheel back to our little camp, 
where Dan spent a day and a half endeavouring to 
repair it. But the case was hopeless. The good 
green tandem would never take the open road again. 

The world seemed desolate that night as we sat 
beside our dying campfire discussing the situation. 
The mournful call of some night bird through the 

[171] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

vast silence waked melancholy echoes in my lonely 
heart. The wind, moaning across the barren plains, 
spoke of darkness, inchoate, overwhelming. The 
stars seemed to stare coldly down upon the whirling 
mote to which we poor humans cling so doggedly. 
A gleam from a lighted window of the farmhouse 
only added to my feeling of isolation. I visioned 
the thousands of family groups gathered round the 
evening lamps, enjoying the cosy comforts of home, 
the sense of peace and security that springs from a 
recognised place in society, the feeling of love and 
protection, the intimate companionship, and oppor- 
tunity for service, — the mother with her sewing, the 
father with magazine or paper, the children with 
school books or toys — all unwitting, unheeding, un- 
caring, utterly indifferent to the fate of the thou- 
sands who roam the highways even as we, having no 
place to lay their heads. These, outcast, abandoned, 
wretched, are exiles from a land of plenty through 
no fault of their own — their only roof, the threaten- 
ing vault of heaven, their only couch, the bare cold 
ground, their evening lamp some solitary campfire. 
Their naked souls shudder in the relentless blast of 
endless ostracism. 

Our little hoard of silver was running low. We 
knew by experience that no work was to be had in 
[172] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

this inhospitable land. Our only hope lay in press- 
ing forward. 

Early next morning we cooked a meagre breakfast, 
packed such articles as were worth saving into two- 
bundles, swung these on our shoulders and were off. 
We had covered perhaps eight miles and Dan was 
beginning to complain of his ankle when in the dis- 
tance we sighted a little settlement strung out along 
the railroad track. As we approached, I took both 
bundles and turned toward the railroad station to 
wait while Dan searched for work. 

As I crossed the right-of-way my attention was 
attracted by a man seated on the ground, his back 
against a telegraph pole. As I walked past, he 
raised his hat and spoke. 

"I would advise you to stay away from the depot, 
madam. The station agent is having a little dispute 
with a couple of drunken cowboys. It is scarcely the 
place for a lady." 

"It is kind of you to warn me," I replied. "It 
was my intention to wait there for my husband, but 
we can scarcely miss one another in this town." 

The stranger sprang to his feet. "Permit me to 
offer )^ou my telegraph pole," he exclaimed with a 
winning smile. Lifting one of the blanket rolls, he 
placed it for a seat, and as I settled myself, sank 

[173] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

down on the other bundle and entered into con- 
versation. 

He was a man on the sunny side of forty, tall, 
slender, but possessed of evident strength. His 
mouth was at once humorous and stern, his nose, 
high-arched with sensitive nostrils, gave him a cold, 
patrician air, which one forgot when he spoke. Then 
white teeth flashed from his sunbrowned face, and 
his eyes, of a peculiarly intense reddish-brown, twin- 
kled roguishly. Never had I listened to a more mu- 
sical human voice. With the utmost tact he led me 
to tell of our experiences. Soon he was in possession 
of the salient features of our journey. 

"I am a sort of Ishmaelite myself," he declared. 
"I take my home with me. I pay no rent, no inter- 
est, no taxes. I do no worrying. I make no plans. 
I dream no dreams. I enjoy all in the way of good 
living that a human animal can hope for. When 
this civilisation is tottering to its fall, I shall be safe 
in a mountain resort known to me alone, prepared to 
round out my days in peace and comfort." 

"Too bad that such a nice appearing man should 
be so crazy," I said to myself as he ceased speaking. 
As though in answer to my thought he burst out 
laughing. 

"Oh, I'm not as crazy as I sound. At any rate, 

[174] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I'm mighty practical about it, as I shall soon demon- 
strate to you. My modern prairie schooner, a home 
on wheels, will be along presently, and then I hope to 
initiate you into a rational method of living in an, 
insane world. Yonder the caravan approaches." 

Following his gaze, I saw a team of mules hitched 
to a long, broad, light spring wagon with a black 
cover like a heavy automobile top, driven by a large 
fair woman, dressed in a yellow duster. Close be- 
hind a young man followed with a team of horses 
attached to a smaller wagon or buckboard. 

My acquaintance stepped to the side of the road 
and hailed the woman, who halted at the edge of the 
right-of-way. After a brief conversation, she turned 
the mules and moved off across the track. The man 
turned as Dan approached and introduced himself 
at once. 

"My name is Adams — Frank Adams," said he, 
"and I have been having a chat with your good 
wife. As a consequence, there is a matter of busi- 
ness, a little proposition that I would like to put 
up to you. But this is no place to talk. Besides, 
the hour grows late and we must make preparations 
for the night. I have directed my outfit to a camp- 
ing place in a grove of trees that I located this 
morning and I should be very much pleased to have 

[175] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the two of you come over with me and enjoy a real 
open-air dinner. Afterwards we'll make ourselves 
comfortable and go fully into my plan, which I have 
every reason to believe will result in pleasure and 
financial benefit to us all." 

Dan seemed favourably impressed by the strang- 
er's frank address. Besides, there was nothing to 
hope for in our present situation. So he picked up a 
bundle, our friend shouldered the other, and we 
were off for the camping ground. 

As we entered the clump of trees, my eye was 
caught by a small chicken coop with slatted bottom, 
which was suspended beneath the rear end of the 
wagon bed. Our guide stepped forward and swung 
open the door. Three fine young Plymouth Rock 
hens, who had been eagerly awaiting this opportun- 
ity, fluttered out and began to peck and scratch vig- 
orously. 

"This simple arrangement insures a few fresh 
eggs for emergencies," Mr. Adams informed me. 
"These hens are very tame and are quite accustomed 
to this mode of living. Now and then, as to-day, 
we get a couple of fryers, and sometimes a nice fat 
hen for roasting, which we confine in the rear com- 
partment until wanted. Thus we are seldom at a 

[176] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

loss for fresh meat. Just step around to the front 
and I'll show you the cooking arrangements." 

At the front of the wagon we found the woman 
actively engaged in preparations for supper. Our 
acquaintance informed her of our situation in a few 
crisp sentences and without waiting for a formal in- 
troduction she took up the task of enlightening us in 
the art of scientific camping. She directed our at- 
tention to the dashboard which pivoted in the centre 
on a horizontal axis to form a support or worktable 
that could be used for dining purposes if necessary. 
A hood, which telescoped under the front edge of the 
wagon cover, could be pushed forward on such occa- 
sions, and by rolling down the curtains, perfect pro- 
tection could be secured from wind and rain. As 
we gazed, the young man brought a pail of fresh 
water and set it in a metal ring which was clamped 
to a front upright. The back of the seat was made 
in two parts, and to the back of the left-hand one 
— formed of sheet metal — a gasoline stove with oven 
attachment was fastened. The upright back revolved 
in such a way that the stove faced the rear when 
the seat was occupied, but could be turned to the 
front for cooking purposes. The housewife — camp- 
wife would be the better term in this case — could sit 
in comfort in the right-hand seat and secure every- 

[177] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

thing required from the racks or from the boxes on 
the bed of the wagon. With competent hands she 
opened the oven door and withdrew a pan of cookies 
which flooded the air with a rich, spicy odour. These 
she replaced with a pan of biscuits, then produced a 
large skillet of broiling chicken from beneath the 
spreading burner which heated the oven. A few 
deft touches and the savoury pieces went back for 
further browning. 

"I generally make most of my preparations while 
travelling," she informed me. "The mules are so 
gentle that they amble along without much driving 
and everything is so convenient that I can cook with- 
out stepping from the rig. Even the water is handy." 
She pointed to a heavy canvas bag, beaded with 
moisture, which hung on the outside wall. 

The side v/alls within were fitted with ingenious 
rticks like a kitchen cabinet, and a little to the 
rear and close against the roof I discerned the wire 
springs of a suspended bed. 

"Yes," our host explained, in answer to my ques- 
tion. "The top framework is of metal, made extra 
strong with a block and tackle arrangement for 
hoisting the bed as soon as it is made each morning. 
The mattress and springs were made to order and 
are very light. By disposing of it in this fashion we 

[178] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

gain free access to our stores which, as you see, fill 
the bottom of the wagon. The horse feed is in the 
rear, our clothing lies in the centre, and the food sup- 
plies occupy the front. We have lived entirely out 
of doors, summer and winter, for two years now, 
and have suffered practically no inconvenience from 
bad weather." 

"I wouldn't move into a house again for any- 
thing," his wife exclaimed. "You have no idea what 
a pleasant life this is. Housework is reduced to 
almost nothing, we get a chance to see the country 
and are as free as air." 

"Don't you find it rather crowded at times'?" I 
asked. 

"Oh, no. Every few days we make a regular 
camp where we stay for a day or two. Then I get 
out the portable oven, make a wood fire, bake bread 
and cake, cook meat and vegetables, wash the clothes, 
and plan for the next jump." 

Our host went to the rear, lifted off the flat top 
of a fibre trunk, unfolded a set of legs and set it up 
as a table. Then he lifted out the seat from the 
second wagon, unloaded three folding camp chairs 
and proceeded to set the table with white enamel 
dishes. 

Meanwhile, the young man, Peter Bates, had come 

[179] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

in from caring for the livestock, and was introduced. 
We all sat down to broiled chicken, boiled potatoes 
warmed in gravy, hot biscuits and honey, stewed 
fruit, cookies and tea. The food was delicious. 

"What do you think of the cooking'?" enquired 
our host, serving us a second helping of chicken. 
''Not many places where you can get meals like 
this. We live on the fat of the land the whole year 
round, don't we, honey-drips?" 

"You're quite right. That's just what we do. 
And nothing to worry us, either," responded his wife. 

Mine host produced a bottle of port, while Bates 
brought out cigars. They greeted our pleasant re- 
fusal to indulge with uplifted brows, and when Dan 
passed by the perf ectos as well Mr. Adams remarked : 
"And not even a cigarette'? You are a Puritan, if I 
may be pardoned for saying so. Well, maybe we 
can do business in spite of handicaps." He paused 
to light a cigar, then lounged back in the wagon seat. 

"I'm a sort of sublimated pedler. I travel from 
town to town selling a couple of styles of window 
signs, which our young friend Pete here, puts up for 
me. Then, to insure continuous action, I take orders 
for a special lamp and for handy tools — combina- 
tions, you know — in the country districts. Thus I 
am never out of a job. The lamp orders are filled 

[180] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



by a mail order house in Chicago, as are the ones 
for tools, so that I carry nothing but a sample. The 
signs consist of letters which are pasted on the 
inner side of the window glass. . . . You've seen 
them many times. 

"Peter wants to quit us and push on to Cheyenne, 
and while I am perfectly competent to put up the 
orders, I dislike to do so. Why work, when I can 
profit from the labour of others'? And that is where 
you come in. I'll get the orders and pay you so 
much for each sign that you put up. In fact, I'll 
even do better. If you are able to pick up an order 
here and there, I'll sell you the supplies for ten per 
cent above cost to me. The work is easy. Any 
mechanical man with a true eye can manage with a 
little instruction and a day or two of experience." 

"Oh, yes," young Bates broke in, "I've always 
been a clerk, but I had no difficulty in getting the 
hang of this thing. I wanted to go to Cheyenne, 
and this gave me a fine chance to see the country 
and make a little dough on the side." 

"A man with your experience and training should 
have no trouble at all in making two or three dollars 
a day," the boss continued. "And it should be most-, 
ly velvet. Honey-drips has a little side line of her 
own. She carries a few toilet accessories to sell to 

[181] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the ladies. In the country districts the housewives 
are only too glad to have an opportunity to get such 
things in exchange for butter, eggs, poultry, vege- 
tables, or even bread and canned fruit. We can 
always use the stuff some way and it cuts the living 
expenses to almost nothing. I get horse feed in 
exchange for tools and lamps, and often I can let 
the animals graze for a day at a time. Now your 
wife can get a supply of these female fixings for ten 
per cent above cost and make most of your living. 
After you have played the game for a month or 
two and find you like it, I'll fix up that second wagon 
like this one here. We use it now for trips off the 
main line where we don't want to take the heavy out- 
fit. 

"That's the gist of the plan. Now, how does the 
scheme strike you?" 

"I'd be glad enough to get a couple of dollars a 
day over our living," replied Dan. "What do you 
think about it, Ethel?" 

"I believe it would be an excellent thing for the 
present, at least. Of course, I won't be satisfied till 
we get back to California, but we should be able to 
save money enough to make the trip comfortably in 
a few months if we manage carefully." 

"Well, so far as getting to California is con- 

[182] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

cemed," observed Mr. Adams, "we expect to arrive 
there about the middle of next December. We will 
work the territory between here and Cheyenne, then 
swing down across Colorado, pass through Arizona 
in November, and work California in the winter 
months. Then if you have not come to love this life, 
as I think you will, you can leave us and return to 
the old grubby existence." 

"Now, that will be splendid," I cried enthusias- 
tically. "We'll not only reach home, but we'll see 
the country and save some money for a fresh start — 
we'll need all we can save before we get on our feet 
again, I'm afraid." 

"Very well, then, good people. We'll consider 
the matter settled. You can camp here to-night and 
begin to learn the ropes the first thing in the morn- 
ing." 

The conversation turned on the day's work and I 
gathered a fair idea of the usual activities. Mr. 
Adams would take the light team and with Mr. Bates 
push ahead, leaving Mrs. Adams to pursue a leisurely 
course with the mules. The men struck the first little 
store they came to, or if the country was very sparsely 
settled, they stopped at a farm. If they secured a 
sign order from the store-keeper. Bates remained to 
place it, depending on Mrs. Adams to pick him up 

[183] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

as she passed. Meanwhile, Mr. Adams drove on to 
solicit more orders, search out a suitable camping 
place, and otherwise prepare for the coming of his 
party. This particular morning Adams had left the 
light team with Bates, who was busy with a sign, 
and had caught a ride in a passing buggy to the little 
town where I had met him. Each day's programme 
was the spontaneous result of immediate needs. 

As we rose to say good-night, Mrs. Adams pro- 
duced milk, eggs and whiskey, and they prepared a 
customary night cap. I was startled by the enor- 
mous draught of liquor poured out by our employer, 
who, noting my surprise, remarked apologetically, 
"I've been a frightful sufferer from insomnia for a 
number of years. That was one of the reasons which 
led me to adopt this mode of living, but even the 
open air has failed to relieve me. I've tried vigor- 
ous exercise, long walks, hot food and drink on re- 
tiring, medicines — everything — and I've found my 
only relief in these stiff jolts of whiskey. At times 
I am compelled to get up in the night and find the 
bottle. But I never become intoxicated." 

"I should think that sort of thing would ruin 
your digestion." 

''Well, I take certain precautions. T always take 
my evening dram in the form of an eggnog, and if 

[184] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I need a drink in the night, I take a large cup of 
milk first, which seems to prevent any untoward ef- 
fects." 

We made camp at the far side of the grove and 
were up bright and early, ready for the day's work 
with the "California outfit," as we dubbed the new 
caravan. The three men set out with the buckboard, 
while Mrs. Adams and I broke camp. After every- 
thing was packed and the mules hitched to the 
wagon, my companion got out a few handfuls of 
chicken feed and soon had the hens nicely settled 
for the day's journey. Once the mules were in the 
main road and headed in the right direction, she 
slipped the lines into a patent clutch and began to 
unpack her wares. 

I was glad to find the goods of excellent quality 
and reasonable in price. She gave me a few talking 
points for each article, told me how much cash I 
should demand or about how much I could expect 
in trade. Trading, she observed, was an art in itself 
and worthy of much study. Stock was replenished 
by frequent orders to Chicago, the goods being con- 
signed to the larger towns along the route. Thus 
she would find a fresh supply awaiting her at Syd- 
ney, Nebraska, and would there place an order to be 
shipped to Cheyenne, Wyoming. 

[185] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I had familiarised myself with the most important 
details when we approached a good-sized farmhouse. 

"Come in and watch me work this time, and at the 
next place you can try it yourself," she remarked, 
swinging the mules into the driveway. 

A weary-looking woman opened the door at our 
knock and brightened with interest when she learned 
of our errand. She led the way to the closely shut 
parlour, and flung open the old-fashioned blinds as 
Mrs. Adams prepared her goods for inspection. After 
long consideration she laid down the case with a sigh. 

"I'd just love to buy some of these things, but I 
haven't a cent in the house. My husband is working 
way over in the back lot and anyhow I'd hate to 
bother him." 

"Now, maybe you'd like to trade for what you 
want. I would be glad to get some good, smooth 
potatoes or nice fresh vegetables if you have any to 
spare." 

"Oh, could I do that?" Her voice was eager as a 
child's. "Come right into the kitchen and see what 
you would like." 

Inside of half an hour we were back in the wagon 
with a fine assortment of vegetables. In fact, it 
seemed to me that we had much the best of the bar- 

[186] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

gain. In answer to some such observation, Mrs. 
Adams chuckled. 

"When I saw how that woman had been trained, 
I led her right along. She has no idea of the value 
of money or of produce either. How can she, when 
her husband never allows her a cent of spending 
money *? The kind of women who must always beg 
for every calico dress and pair of shoes, go wild 
when they have a chance to trade for themselves. 
You should do as much business as possible with 
them — take anything they have — get flour or sugar 
if there is nothing else on hand. String 'em along 
and you can get a wagon load of groceries for a dol- 
lar's worth of goods." 

Privately registering a determination to do noth- 
ing of the kind, I observed, "I should think their 
husbands would find out about that sort of thing 
and make trouble." 

*'Don't worry, we'd be well out of the way before 
they could find out anything about the business." 

''I wasn't thinking about you and me, but about 
the farmer's wife. Seems to me she has troubles 
enough without our adding to her burdens." 

"Now, you got to learn the first principles of this 
business, and the main thing is to look out for num- 
ber one. Skin the other woman every chance you 

[187] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

get. Lots of times they'll stick you and by minding 
your own business, you'll come out about even in the 
end. And you needn't think there is anything new in 
a wife's selling the groceries out of the house to get 
a few nickels to spend for herself. Why, when I 

lived in ^" She stopped abruptly, then resumed. 

"Most grocerymen have cases of women who make 
a habit of padding the bills to get a few dollars re- 
turned on the sly. It's all in the game, and you've 
got to play your end of it." 

"Well, I can't say I like that kind of a game," I 
declared decidedly. "I hope the day will come soon 
when men and women will develop a new psychol- 
ogy along those lines. The first thing that should be 
settled after a couple become engaged is the money 
question. They should have a definite understand- 
ing as to how the money is to be spent after mar- 
riage, and the girl should see to it that she never 
drifts into a position where she must plead with some 
man for what rightfully belongs to her." 

"That sounds very pretty, my dear, but most girls 
are glad enough to catch a man without taking 
chances by arguing over money matters — they're too 
scared of being old maids." 

"That's mostly the fault of their training or, I 
should sav, lack of training. So long as they are led 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

to consider marriage the whole end and aim of life, 
I suppose they'll go on getting into situations where 
they are compelled to cheat and steal and lie to secure 
a few paltry nickels. If I had a daughter, I should 
see that she was fully equipped to become a self- 
supporting, self-respecting member of society, a 
woman who v/ould not look upon marriage as the 
only possible solution of life's problems." 

Mrs. Adams rolled her eyes in horror. "Good 
gracious, woman, you talk like one of these here suf- 
fragettes. If I had a girl that talked like that I'd 
disown her. Why, you want to break up the home !" 

"If financial independence for women means 
breaking up the home, then let it be broken. Pov- 
erty and the economic dependence of woman on man 
is the curse of the whole sex relation. It extends 
from the society matron who caresses and fawns upon 
a husband whom she loathes in order to wheedle him 
into the gift of a diamond necklace, a new mansion 
or other extravagance, through all the middle class 
women who lie and cheat and steal the household 
goods to get spending money, on down to the daugh- 
ters of the poor who are forced to sell their bodies 
in order to exist. We frown upon European mar- 
riages, but expect our own girls to make good 
matches, marry ior a home, do anything to catch a 

[189] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

man. Faugh, the thought makes me ill. If we sup- 
port the American idea of matrimony, then we must 
admit that the only proper basis for marriage is love. 
If we are to have free men, we must have free 
women who refuse to sell themselves for a home, 
social position, or material gain in any form what- 
soever. We must adopt a single standard of morals, 
and abolish prostitution, both within and without the 
marriage relation." 

"Why — why, you — I'm surprised at you," stut- 
tered my companion. "I never heard a woman speak 
such words before. Such talk is indecent, that's what 
it is, indecent." 

"The truth is often considered indecent, I believe, 
especially the naked truth. Like the human body, 
it needs to be concealed by a peek-a-boo waist of 
prudery and licentiousness." 

"Stop, stop, not another word. . . . Such lan- 
guage is positively shocking . . *. not fit for a de- 
cent woman to listen to." 

At this point in this most shocking conversation, 
the mules headed for a wretched two-room shack 
that stood a little away from the road. To me the 
place appeared too poverty-stricken for hope of busi- 
ness, but our driver let the mules have their way. 

A frowsy woman was carrying two heavy pails of 
[190] 



Ok. 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

water from a well near which stood a cesspool, a 
ramshackle shed for stock and a great heap of refuse. 
The dooryard swarmed with dogs, hogs and children. 
A sallow girl, gathering corncobs for the fire, loosed 
her loaded petticoat and dashed forward to greet 
us. Mrs. Adams seized her sample case and leaving 
the mules to their own devices, scrambled from the 
wagon. I followed meekly. 

The farmer's wife set down her dripping burden, 
wiped her hands on her tattered apron and proffered 
us a brimming dipper. Thirsty as I was, I felt im- 
pelled to decline — the well's environment did not 
appeal to my taste. No sooner were we within the 
house, than Mrs. Adams opened negotiations for a 
side of bacon. 

"We've got some extry bacon, but I dunno about 
sparin' none. My old man's aiming to take some 
into town to trade in a day or two and I dunno 
what he'd say if I let go of a side." 

"Oh, Maw," broke in the oldest girl, who had 
been examining our display with longing eyes, "never 
mind what Paw says. If he trades the side meat, 
he'll just get drunk on the money. He always does." 

"You shut your mouth and don't go talking about 
your Paw." The mother gave the girl a sharp slap 
on the ear as she spoke. 

[191] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

The child's face crimsoned. "I don't care. It 
ain't right. We don't ever do anything but work, 
work, work, and Paw, he never works. Then every- 
thing goes for hateful old booze. It ain't right." 

"Now, now, Mandy, you orta treat your Paw with 
respect. I can't see what's getting into the young 
ones these days, especially the girls. Mandy here, 
bellered her head off cause we let Jeffie, that's our 
oldest, stop last winter with my brother Jed to go 
to school. She thought she orta gone too." 

"Jeff's had two years more in school now than 
I've had, and still I'm ahead of him." 

"That's all the more reason why you orta stay 
home and work. JefBe's a boy and needs schoolin', 
while you're a " 

"You're quite right," Mrs. Adams interrupted; "a 
girl don't need much book learning. She wants to 
learn to cook and sew and take good care of her 
house so she can make some man a good wife." 

"Yes, so she can plough and harrow and husk corn 
and carry swill to the hogs while her man goes to 
town and gets drunk. I hate men. I hate men." 
The girl's eyes blazed. 

"Get out that door, you ungrateful hussy, or I'll 
give you a good lambasting." The child burst into 
tears as her mother pursued her from the untidy liv- 
[192] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

ing room. "I can't see what's got into the child. 
She's always been such a comfort to me — worked 
since she was knee high to a duck. Seems like she's 
dead set on going to school, but I can't spare her. 
Why this spring, she and I put in eighty acres of 
corn with our own hands, besides milking seven 
cows and all the other work. I've only got the one 
boy; he's the oldest in the family. I aim he should 
have an education, but Jeffie hates school. Mandy 
can learn as much in eight weeks scattered through 
the winter term as he can in a year, but the spite of 
it is she's only a girl and don't need schoolin'." 

"You're very wise to keep her with you. A wom- 
an's place is in the home. Now, don't you think it 
would be a good idea to trade me that bacon *? It'll 
make the girl contented to get these things she wants 
and she'll forget all about that fool notion of going 
to school. She needs stuff like this to attract the 
boys. You make the trade and then figure out some 
'way of pulling the wool over the old man's eyes." 

"Well, maybe I can manage some way. I orta 
get something for the poor child, I suppose. Paw' 11 
raise Cain, but he does that anyhow. Now, what' 11 
you let me have for a good fat side of bacon *?" 

Leaving the two women to conclude the bargain, 
I stepped outside and sought Mandy. The poor girl 

[193] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

seemed only too glad to find a sympathetic soul to 
confide in. 

She was sixteen years old, she said, and although 
her opportunities for study had been so limited, she 
had managed to keep up with her classes by study- 
ing every spare moment. For the past two years 
her teacher had taken a special interest in her and 
had advised and helped her in every possible way. 
She had a great ambition. It was to become a school 
teacher and thus be able to help her mother and 
younger sisters. 

"Toots is past fourteen and strong for her age," 
she concluded, "and May is twelve. They could help 
Maw out if I was gone. If I could only have Jeff's 
chance — just have some place to live while I went 
to school. But Maw won't hear of it. I just don't 
know what to do. It's not for me alone, it's all the 
little ones. Paw gets worse all the time, and Jeff's 
got no ambition. I got to succeed to save the fam- 
ily." She squared her wiry little shoulders as though 
to support the world. 

"Sometimes people are willing to take a good, 
strong girl and let her earn her board and keep while 
she goes to school by working mornings and nights 
and holidays. It's a pretty hard way to live. A 

[194] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

girl must be a servant and never gets any fun. Would 
you want to do that?" 

Mandy stretched out her browned and calloused 
hands. "Do you see those paws? I've milked 
cows and curried mules and ploughed and suckered 
corn, to say nothing of washing dishes and packing 
wood and water and such like, all without any hope 
at all. Give me a chance to earn an education and 
rU work these fingers to the bone and be glad to 
do it." 

"Well, I can't promise you anything definite, but 
I meet lots of people and I'll see what I can do. If 
I do find a place, how'll I let you know?" 

"I'll give you the address of Mrs. Cummings. 
That's where my teacher boarded. You can send a 
letter there for me and she'll see that I get it safely. 
Oh, if you'll only get me a chance!" 

"Are you sure you have the courage to leave your 
home in the face of the opposition of your father 
and mother and go away alone to work in some 
stranger's kitchen? You're under age, too, you 
know, and if your parents can find you, they can 
force you to return. You'll have to cut j/ourself off 
from them for two whole years." 

"Yes, I can do it. I swear to you, I will do it — 
cross my heart and hope to die. I wouldn't leave 

[195] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

my mother, if I didn't feel sure it's for her own 
good. I can do so much for her when I get to be 
a teacher. You'll try to get me a chance, won't 
you?" 

I promised to do my best. 

As Mrs. Adams came out of the door with her 
side of bacon, Mandy dashed inside, and returned 
in a few moments with a piece of paper which she 
slipped into my hand. 

"Here's the address," she whispered. "You won't 
forget, will you? Please, please, don't forget." 

With a few reassuring words I bade her good-bye 
and took my place in the wagon. 

"That good-for-nothing hussy of a girl will come 
to a bad end, you mark my words," Mrs. Adams 
said spitefully, as I turned to wave my hand to the 
plucky little figure standing in the dust of the road- 
side, "but I suppose you think she's real cute, run- 
ning down her poor old father." 

We jogged along in silence for some time, then, 
as we approached a prosperous-looking farm, my 
employer suggested that I try my hand at the game. 
With sinking heart I dragged my reluctant feet up 
the path, but was surprised and reassured by the 
warmth of my reception. Unlike the city dweller, 
the average country woman rather welcomes the call 

[196] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of a peddler. I was fortunate in more ways than 
one, for my customer had money and made a large 
selection, so that I was enabled to pay for my goods 
and retain sixty-iive cents to jingle in my pocket. 

For the rest of the day, we took turns at the 
farmhouses and by night I had quite a supply of 
food, which represented clear profit, as I had paid 
for the toilet articles in produce. Dan and I had 
determined to attend to our own culinary operations 
instead of boarding with Mrs. Adams, as had been 
suggested. We felt that we could save more money, 
and while our table was not elaborate, it satisfied 
our needs very nicely. 

About fiYG o'clock we overtook the men, and fol- 
lowing their direction, soon arrived at the camping 
place. 

The evening meal concluded, Dan and I were sit- 
ting beside our little fire, comparing the day's ex- 
periences, when Mr. Adams strolled over and threw 
himself down beside us. After some desultory con- 
versation, he plunged into a philosophical discus- 
sion. 

"Have you ever made a study of Nietzsche?" he 
demanded. 

"I've tried to read him, but with little success," 
I replied. "His philosophy is so revolting to me, 

[197] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

that I can scarcely pass an unbiassed judgment on 
him." 

"You surprise me. I consider Friedrich Wilhelm 
Nietzsche the greatest genius and the most profound 
philosopher that the world has yet produced. His 
work is so free from sentimental mush, his attitude 
is so clearly scientific, he shows none of the weakness 
that comes from . . ." 

"Oh, Frankie, love, come quick. I need you." It 
was the voice of our friend's fair partner. He rose 
slowly to his feet and bade us good-night. 

"I have a hunch that Honey-drips does not care 
for philosophy," observed Dan, as we rose to turn 
in for the night. 

The next few days were uneventful. Mr. Bates 
took a train for Cheyenne, leaving Dan to handle the 
sign orders alone. We had accumulated an abun- 
dant supply of farm produce of all kinds, in fact, we 
were overstocked in some lines, so that Mr. Adams 
suggested a change of programme. Instead of riding 
behind the mule team, I now go with the men in 
the buckboard, and while Mr. Adams solicits sign 
orders, and Dan puts them up, I canvass the towns 
where my goods sell for cash. 

The drives seem but half as long as before, thanks 
to the superior speed of the horses and the pleasant 

[198] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

banter of Mr. Adams, who is a most interesting con- 
versationalist. 

The man is a wonderful study. He often starts 
to speak of some personal experience and breaks off 
in the middle of the first sentence. He never has 
given me the least hint of his earlier life, but I feel 
sure that he is a college man. There must be some 
mystery in his life. I spoke of my beliefs to Dan. 

He replied, "The only mystery that I see is that 
he is falling in love with you, and that's not much 
of a mystery either. Honey-drips sees how the wind 
blows and loves you like a rattlesnake." 

I indignantly denied the allegation, for Mr. 
Adams' conduct had been exemplary. But Dan re- 
fused to retract his unjust words, so I determined to 
keep my opinions to myself. 



[199] 



TWELV E 

July i2th^ igo8, 
Sydney, Nebraska. 



TWELVE 



July 12^ igo8. Sydney, Nebraska. 

We had worked a small town a half day's drive 
east of Sydney, where pressing business awaited Mr. 
Adams' immediate attention. Dan had a number 
of sign orders to fill and Mrs. Adams some culinary 
duties to perform, so it came about that Mr. Adams 
and I drove ahead with the buckboard, leaving the 
others to finish their tasks and follow. 

We rose early and began our journey as the rose 
and opal tints of dawn were disappearing in the 
mounting flood of sunlight. The air was cool and 
bracing and the horses cavorted with delight as we 
spun past the scattering outposts of the village and 
took the white, winding road across the western 
plain. 

Mr. Adams set me down at the edge of town and 
headed for the express and telegraph office, while I 
prepared for peddling. He was out of sight before I 
realised that we had not touched the lunch that was 
in the buckboard, although it was after one o'clock. 
I hadn't a cent with me, for I had put all the money 

[203] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

available into an order for special goods, which 
Mr. Adams was going to send east. Making change 
might prove awkward at first, but I could only do 
my best. I selected the most prosperous street and 
set resolutely to work. 

At the first three houses the inmates refused to 
open the door, although I could see them peering at 
me from within. 

"Nothing to-day," exclaimed the fourth housewife 
before I could open my mouth. 

I was growing very thirsty and as I walked up a 
flower-bordered path to a vine-covered veranda, I de- 
cided to ask for a drink of water without mentioning 
my wares. A sharp-nosed woman answered my ring. 

"Please, madam, could I trouble you for a drink 
of water?" I asked. 

"You can't play any of your tricks on me," she 
replied spitefully, slamming the door in my face. 

As I walked slowly through the yard, I saw a 
pleasant-faced young Swedish girl at work on the 
back porch of the large house next door. 

"She'll surely give me a drink," I said to myself. 
She greeted me with a smile as I made known my 
wants and in a moment I was quenching the thirst 
which had grown unendurable. As I set down the 
glass she noted my sample case. 
[204] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

''You bane sell someting?" she enquired with a 
wide smile. 

With eager hands she fell upon the toilet articles 
as I opened the case. 

"Yaw, yaw," she cried. "I bane want someting 
long, long tam. Youst wait. I got money." 

She disappeared into the house. 

I was laying out her selections when a harsh voice 
startled me. 

"How dare you sneak into my home and take up 
the time of my maids ? Leave this house instantly." 

I whirled around, too amazed to speak. A large, 
pompous woman was standing in the inner doorway, 
motioning me out with a be-ringed hand. 

"But — but madam," I stammered, "your maid 
wants to buy some of these articles. She has gone 
to get the money." 

"I'll not have you cheating my servants. Go 
away from here." 

The girl appeared at that moment, but her mis- 
tress blocked the door. 

"Hulda, you stay right where you are. Shame on 
you, wasting valuable time on a tricky pedler. 
What do you suppose I pay you wages for*?" 

"Oh, mam. I ban long tam want . . ." 

"That will do. That will do. I don't want any 

[205] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of your saucy talk. You are paid to do the house- 
work, so get at it." She turned on me. 

''Get off these premises at once. You may be able 
to swindle these ignorant foreigners, but you can't 
impose on me. Go now, or I'll call the constable. 
The very idea, crowding yourself right into people's 
homes, talking to their servants, impudent ..." 

She was still raving as I passed out of hearing. 
The day was very warm. I was dusty and tired 
and hungry. Aimlessly I followed the street till it 
terminated in a country road and finally sank down 
by the roadside, too weary and disheartened to think 
clearly. 

I was roused by the sound of pattering hoofs and 
glancing up, saw a team of grey Indian ponies, at- 
tached to a light buckboard, come scampering around 
a curve. They shied sharply at sight of my recum- 
bent figure, reared and tried to break into a run. 
Their driver drew them in with masterly skill, and 
circling through the weeds and brush, returned to 
learn the cause of the fracas. She was a tall, strong 
woman, with an aquiline nose and iron grey hair. 
The smile with which she greeted me as I approached 
the wagon was very winning. 

"Is there something the matter*? Are you ill or 
[206] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

hurt"?" she inquired, leaning toward me with kindling 
eyes. 

"No, just tired and a bit blue, I guess. It didn't 
seem worth while to walk any more, so I dropped 
right down here." 

"Pardon me, but aren't you a stranger to these 
parts'? I don't recall seeing you before. In these 
little towns we generally know every one, at least by 
sight." 

"Yes, I arrived only a couple of hours ago, but I 
know this town pretty well already." 

She searched my face as though seeking the true 
meaning of my words ; then her eyes fell on my sam- 
ple case, which was still clutched in my left hand. 

"Oh, you are selling something," she exclaimed. 
"What is it, books?" 

"No, not books. And I'm not selling anything 
either — not in this town." 

"Oh, so that's it. You must have started on 
the wrong street. Suppose you jump in with me 
and ride out to the house. Maybe it will change 
your luck." 

I hesitated for a moment, my usual faith in human 
nature somewhat shaken by recent experiences. 

"Come on, now. Jump in. I'll bring you back 

[207] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

to wherever you want to go, whenever you are 
ready." 

I walked around the wagon and clambered in. 
The ponies bounded forward, and away we flew, 
winding up among low, rolling hills, until we came 
to a small house perched on the side of a knoll. 
Care of the team had occupied my companion's at- 
tention to the exclusion of conversation until we had 
entered the house. Then, as she set out a substantial 
lunch — afternoon tea, she termed it — we began to 
get acquainted. 

Mrs. Holiday's home was in Cheyenne, but her 
husband owned this large stock ranch, which led 
them to make frequent visits to Sydney. 

As evening approached, she declared her inten- 
tion of driving into town after Dan and keeping the 
two of us as long as our business permitted us to 
remain in the neighbourhood. Leaving me to de- 
vour a tableful of newspapers and late magazines, 
the first I had seen in months, she sped away with 
her frisky team and returned with Dan, who had 
grown quite accustomed to my peculiar way of mak- 
ing myself at home in unusual places. As they 
drove into the yard, Mr. Holiday rode in from the 
range and we all were soon on a most friendly foot- 
ing. 

[208] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Mr. Adams had already left a couple of sign or- 
ders with Dan to put up the next morning, but in- 
stead of going into town with him to resume my 
interrupted labours as a pedler, I decided to take a 
day off to wash and mend our clothing and inciden- 
tally starch my crumpled courage by an interchange 
of confidences with my hostess, who possessed a pe- 
culiarly invigorating temperament. 

Her early years had been full of privations and 
severe struggles to gain an education. She had be- 
come a high school teacher, but her health failed, 
forcing her to seek the high altitudes of the Rockies. 
Here she had met and married Mr. Holiday, a well- 
to-do cattle man, and they had built a home in 
Cheyenne. One child — a girl — was born to them, 
but she had died some two years previously. Since 
her death the mother had been almost mad with 
loneliness, finding her chief consolation in mother- 
ing the calves and colts and other young creatures 
of the range. 

She was greatly interested in the history of our 
experiences, and as I was telling her the story of 
Mandy of the corn fields, she suddenly leaned for- 
ward with sparkling eyes. 

Give me the address of that Mrs. Cummings. I'm 
going back there and if she is half the gritty little 

[209] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

heroine that you make her out to be, Fll bring her 
home with me and see that she gets the best educa- 
tion that money can buy. Maybe I'll take one or 
two of the other children, too." 

"But . . . but maybe their mother will ob- 
ject," I faltered. 

"It won't do her a bit of good if she does," Mrs. 
Holiday replied firmly. "I always get what I go 
after. You know, when I saw you beside the road 
yesterday, I felt impelled to take you home with 
me. I believe in that kind of instinct — intuition — 
fate — call it what you will. That little Mandy will 
be my girl. I can teach her so much. It will be like 
renewing my youth. Of course, she'll go to school 
in Cheyenne, too, and later to college if she likes. 
Oh, I'll get her — rest assured of that. It's mostly 
a question of money, anyway." 

I handed over the address without another word. 
Yes, it would be largely a question of money with 
that drunken father and ignorant mother, and it 
would be a wonderful opportunity for Mandy. 

The workings of fate are marvellous to contem- 
plate. If that old harridan of a woman had not 
ordered me from her house, I would not have wan- 
dered out into the country and met Mrs. Holiday. 
Then Mandy would not have had her chance. Thus, 
[210] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the harridan woman is clearly seen to be but an 
instrument of a benign Providence. Should she be 
censured for an act that results in so much good? I 
put the question to my companion, who laughed as 
I told her the story. 

"You were unfortunate in that you began opera- 
tions in the fashionable quarter of our fair city. I 
know the woman you describe. She is the shining 
light of local clubdom, the greatest society leader 
here. She would be highly insulted at the idea of 
serving as an instrument of Fate. Why, she would 
not be the servant of the Almighty himself — if she 
can't boss the job, she won't play." 

"It must be rather hard on the maid," I observed. 

"Well, she's notorious for the way she handles 
her servants. She gets these green foreigners fresh 
from the old country, and keeps them penned in 
her kitchen so long as they will endure it. They 
are taught to cook and wash and all that, but she 
pays next to nothing, and does her best to prevent 
their learning decent English or mingling with their 
kind. She is a fine person to talk of swindling ig- 
norant foreigners. A worse exploiter of unfortu- 
nate servant girls it would be difficult to find. 

"But to-morrow I'll take you into another part 

[211] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of town, over where the human people live, and 
probably you will do quite well." 

She was a good prophet, for I have succeeded in 
clearing nearly five dollars during the last few days. 
It will be with keen regret that I leave my new- 
found friend to-morrow morning and take the road 
again with the California outfit. 



[212] 



T HIRTEE N 

July 2srd^ 
Cheyenne, Wyoming. 



1 



THIRTEEN 



July 2jrd. Cheyenne^ Wyoming. 

Alas, for our dreams of a comfortable journey 
home; alas for our expectation of seeing the coun- 
try; alas, too, for our hopes of saving money for a 
fresh start in the world. We face mountains and 
desert with nothing but a grim determination to win 
or die. 

After we left Sydney, Mrs. Adams abandoned 
herself to a mounting jealousy, which became in- 
creasingly evident to us all. The hours that I was 
forced to spend with her behind the ambling mules, 
were torture. She took advantage of every oppor- 
tunity to annoy and humiliate me, so that every 
atom of my patience and control was needed to avoid 
a scene. But my best efforts availed nothing with 
the woman. We had been travelling through a 
very sparsely settled region some twenty-five or 
thirty miles east of Cheyenne when the affair came 
to a climax. About eleven o'clock I left Mrs. Ad- 
ams waiting in the country road while I called at a 
farm house, which stood some distance away in a 

[215] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

clump of trees. She had refused to drive in as usual, 
but had ordered me to go in and trade for or pur- 
chase some fresh eggs. When I reached the house 
no one was at home, and after considerable search 
in the outbuildings, I returned empty handed to the 
road, only to find the wagon gone. Dust was rising 
in the distance and I could just see the black wagon 
top as the mules pulled slowly over a rise. 

My blood was boiling as I set off down the road 
at a jog trot, expecting to overtake the slow-going 
mules in the first mile or so. I was within hailing 
distance of the team when Mrs. Adams glanced 
back, whipped the animals into a lively trot, and 
with an insulting gesture coolly outdistanced me. 

"Very well," I said to myself, steadying my pace. 
"I'll walk no further than the first water. Then I'll 
rest until night. Dan will come into camp and miss 
me. He'll take the buckboard and start hunting. 
And when we finally come up with that woman there 
will be something doing." 

But water is scarce in that country, and at last I 
sat down in the sparce shade of a clump of bushes 
to wait for a rescue. It came much sooner than I 
expected, for it was not more than three o'clock 
when I was roused from a light doze by a cheerful 
halloo and sprang up to see Mr. Adams reining in 

[216] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the horses. He leaped down in a jiffy, brought out 
the oozing canvas bag of water that he always car- 
ried in this desert country and handed me a delicious 
draught. 

"Get right into the rig, and I'll unpack your 
lunch," he exclaimed solicitously, assisting me over 
the wheel. "I only learned of this infernal outrage 
by accident. I landed a rather unusual order this 
morning and, leaving your husband on the job to 
sketch the preliminaries, drove back to meet the 
wagon and rush along the necessary supplies. What 
was my surprise to find you missing. My wife and 
I had a beautiful row while I was putting up this 
lunch and starting back to look for you. She's gone 
ahead now, to take that new lot of letters to your 
husband." 

He had turned the team around as he spoke and 
was driving rapidly along the western track. Then 
I looked up from my meal in surprise, for he had 
swung into a narrow trail leading away to the north. 

"What's the idea?" I inquired. "Aren't you 
taking the wrong turning?" 

"There is a little spring up here a mile or so 
where we'll stop to feed and water the horses. 
They've been jogging pretty steadily since early this 
morning." 

[217] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

It was true. The poor beasts were in need of 
food and water, and I was glad when we drew up 
at a tiny stream, which flowed through the bottom 
of a ravine, where we could enjoy the protecting 
shade of a few straggling willows. Mr. Adams un- 
harnessed the sweat-stained animals, allowed them 
a swallow or two of water and spread a flake of 
baled hay for them to munch until cool enough to 
eat their grain. I had settled myself beneath a tree 
and had just finished my lunch when he threw him- 
self down beside me. 

"Ethel," he began, "you are too fine a woman for 
the kind of life you are leading. I love you, dear. 
Won't you let me take you away and give you all 
the beautiful things that belong to you?" 

I gazed at him a moment in silence. "Aren't you 
forgetting yourself, Mr. Adams'?" I inquired coldly. 
"How about your wife?" 

"Oh, that woman. She is not my wife, and she 
has no hold on me whatever. Why she was run- 
ning an assignation house in Detroit when I picked 
her up. Let her go back where she came from." 

"And you can live with a woman for more than 
two years, share the burdens of the road, eat at the 
same campfire, travel with her as your wife, and 
then dismiss her with a wave of the hand? You 

[218] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

may consider yourself free perhaps, but I am a mar- 
ried woman and, besides, I love my husband." 

"You think you love him, no doubt, and maybe 
you do — now. But who knows how long that love 
will last^ You yourself admit that love is the only 
legitimate basis for marriage. Your love for your 
husband may die to-morrow as the love of thousands 
of other women has done. Love is free as the wind, 
it comes and goes without reason, without warning, 
without restraint. 

"Now, I am rich. I flatter myself that I know 
the world. I will aid you to a divorce and obtain 
one myself. After marriage we will travel, visit 
Florence, Naples, drink in all the myriad beauties 
of the Old World. If you have ambitions, I will 
help you to achieve. I will gratify your tastes for 
music, art, literature; I will free those wonderful 
impulses that throb beneath that calm exterior — 
those sensuous instincts to which your lout of a hus- 
band is so totally oblivious." 

I sprang to my feet. "That will be all, if you 
please. Don't say another word." 

I busied myself with the horses. He placed their 
grain, then drew close to me. 

"My God, Ethel. I love you, girl, love you, do 
you hear? Give me just a little chance, won't you?" 

[219] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

He caught my hand and pressed it to his lips. I 
wrenched it away roughly, and looked about in des- 
peration. The long shadows of late afternoon lay 
among the hills ; the country was wild and rugged — 
not a human habitation in sight. I was absolutely 
alone with this maniac. I turned with resolute 
mien. 

"See here, my friend. If you love me even half 
as much as you say you do, you will cease your in- 
sulting proposals, hitch up this team and take me 
back to civilisation. You will make me hate you, 
if you keep on as you are doing." 

He stood motionless, staring at me with sombre 
eyes. Then, as I began to place the harness on the 
horses, he came to my assistance, and together we 
watered them and hitched them to the buckboard. 

We drove home in silence and reached camp just 
as Dan came whistling down the road. It was plain 
that my husband knew nothing of my desertion by 
Mrs. Adams that morning, and I was in no condition 
to tell him anything coherent. I stood like a wooden 
Indian as he seized me around the waist with a bear- 
like hug. 

"Good news," he cried. "To-day's work brings 
our credit with the old man up to an even fifty dol- 
lars. Not so bad for a poor hobo, is it, now?" 
[220] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



He caught sight of my face and became all sym- 
pathy. "Why, sweetheart, what's the matter'? Are 
you sick?" 

"N-no, not sick exactly," I faltered, with lips that 
persisted in quivering a trifle. 

"Well, you look awfully queer, some way. Has 
that old cat been bothering you again?" 

"Yes," I murmured. "She's pretty mean, and it's 
been so hot, and I — oh, I guess I'm about played 
out." 

He gently led me to a spot as far removed from 
the Adams' camp as possible, made a couple of trips 
to the wagons and brought back our bedding, a few 
cooking utensils and some food for supper. Then 
he induced me to lie down, while he built a fire and 
prepared the meal. 

"Poor little girl," he murmured. "I know all this 
is mighty rough on you, but if I can only keep on 
as I've been doing for the past three weeks, it won't 
be so very long till we can ride the cushions home 
in comfort. Meantime, leave the old cat alone as 
much as possible, and try not to take the situation 
too seriously." 

It seemed that I had scarcely fallen asleep when 
I was awakened by a consciousness of something 
wrong. The night was dark, but judging from the 

[221] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Stars, it was about midnight. What was it that had 
aroused me? I lay still and listened. 

There came a tinkling of trace chains from the 
Other side of the big cattle pen where the Adams' 
camp lay. Pshaw, it was only one of the mules, 
nosing around the camp in search of fruit parings, 
as he often did. I lay back reassured and dozed 
once more. 

Again that premonition came; that peculiar in- 
stinct that thrills one into vivid wakefulness in the 
midst of quiet slumber. Again I sat up with a start. 
Again I heard mysterious noises from the direction 
of the other camp. I took my husband by the arm. 

"Dan, Dan," I hissed. "Wake up. I hear some- 
thing." 

He grunted, groaned, stretched himself and sat 
up. "What's the matter, Ethel?" he muttered 
sleepily. 

"I don't know what it is, but I feel sure there is 
something wrong. This is the second time I've 
waked up feeling this way." 

"Something wrong I What do you mean? 
What's wrong?" 

"That's just it. I don't know what it is, but 
there is something the matter at the Adams' camp." 

"I don't hear anything — you must have been 
[222] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

dreaming Don't you feel well? I'll get you a 

drink of water." He jumped up and searched 
around for a cup. 

"What's the matter, folks? Did the noise dis- 
turb you?" It was the cheerful voice of Mr. Adams. 

"Oh, Ethel's got a notion that the bugaboos are 
after her," answered Dan. 

"She heard that mule, I suppose. Jack tried to 
get into the grain as usual and got tangled in the 
harness. I just finished straightening him out." 

"Anything I can do to help you, old man?" Dan 
called. 

"No, thank you. Everything is all right now. 
Go back to bylo land and never mind if you hear me 
fussing around. I'm going to take a high-ball." 

Once more we lay down, and this time I slept 
soundly. I was awakened by a shout from Dan, 
who had risen and dressed without disturbing me. 
The sun was well up, but the camping ground was 
unaccountably silent. There was no sound of cack- 
ling hens, or of stamping, munching horses and 
mules; no smoke rose from the other side of the 
cattle pen. 

"Ethel, Ethel," Dan was calling. "Come here, 
quick." 

[223] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I wrapped a blanket about me and ran to him, 
then stopped in consternation. 

The California outfit was gone. 

Gone also were our odds and ends of equipment, 
saved from the wreck of the wheel, my emergency 
case, a change of clothing, all the groceries and pro- 
visions that I had worked so hard to accumulate, and 
last, but not least, gone were the fifty dollars, left 
in Mr. Adams' hands for safe keeping, over which 
we had been rejoicing the night before. 

Dan was stamping about like a madman shouting, 
"I'll kill the I'll get the law on him." 

He followed the wagon tracks to the main road, 
but it was impossible to tell in which direction they 
had gone. As he returned, he picked up the old bat- 
tered canteen, given me by the ex-soldier as a keep- 
sake, which had evidently slipped from the wagon 
as it jolted over the uneven ground. 

Together we wandered back to our little camp. 
We still had our blankets, a few cooking utensils, 
a partly used box of cocoa, a little sugar, part of a 
can of sweetened condensed milk, and a few scrappy 
remains of the evening meal. 

After making an unsatisfactory breakfast, we cast 
up accounts to determine our line of action. I had 
[224] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

nearly five dollars in silver in a concealed pocket in 
my clothing, and Dan had a few dollars also. 

We were camped near the loading pen of a large 
cattle corral placed beside a lonely railroad siding. 
We had no means of knowing where Adams had 
gone; no way of pursuing him. We had no idea 
where to find the sheriff of that county or other offi- 
cer of the law. If we should succeed in capturing 
the thieves, what sort of a case could we make 
against them^ We had no written agreement — not 
the scratch of a pen to show that they owed us any- 
thing at all. And possession is nine points of the 
law. Then, how could we live while waiting for 
results from the slow-moving legal machinery*? The 
case looked hopeless from every angle. 

I told Dan about Mrs. Adams' conduct the day 
before and something of the affair with the man. 
He read me quite a lecture and then advised me to 
forget the whole episode as quickly as possible. We 
had but one object in life — to reach California as 
soon as fate would let us. We must dismiss the 
California outfit from our minds — not speak of it 
again. But one road lay open to us. We must have 
recourse to a "side-door Pullman." 

Bundles on backs, we struck out for a water tank, 
there to await the coming of a freight. A long string 

[225] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of coal cars pulled in and stopped for water. Dan's 
request for a ride to Cheyenne was granted with the 
proviso that we drop off before we reached the city. 
The brakeman spoke to the engineer, who agreed to 
take advantage of a steep grade a few miles east of 
town to slow down sufficiently for us to jump in 
safety, adding that this would be our only chance, 
as trains always ran down the further slope into the 
city at a high speed. We were forced to ride in a 
gondola, which is a fairly warm place in a blazing 
sun. Mile after mile we rode, and at last were 
warned of the approach to the hill. Crouching at 
the end of the car, we waited for the speed to slacken. 

Suddenly I noticed that the speed was increasing 
instead of diminishing, and a glance ahead showed 
the engineer waving his arms frantically. The 
brakeman bounded into the car. 

"My God I" he yelled. "The super's on behind 
and Buck daren't slow down. We're over the hill. 
You'll be pinched in Cheyenne, sure, and we'll get 
a sixty-day layoff, if we don't all get the bounce." 

"We must jump for it, Dan," I said. "There is 
no other way. And we'll have to be quick about 
it, too." 

Gathering my skirts in one hand, I clung to the 
side of the car with the other and leaned far out 

[226] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and down. Dan begged me not to try it, but fol- 
lowed my lead when he saw that I was determined 
to go. The earth reeled by at a frightful speed, the 
wind lashed my face, the heavy freight lurched from 
side to side with crash and roar, gathering momen- 
tum with every turn of the wheels. 

For a moment my courage failed and I hung mo- 
tionless. Then with a violent outward thrust of 
hand and arm, I made a sidelong leap. My feet 
struck the gravelled path at the side of the rails with 
a thud, and catching my stride, I ran clear. Dan 
was not so fortunate, but rolled headlong down the 
embankment, landing in a clump of brush. In an 
instant I reached his side and found him unhurt, but 
pale as a ghost from the strain. Together we darted 
into the tall bushes and sank down, just as the ca- 
boose swept by, with a man, evidently the superin- 
tendent referred to by the brakeman, standing on the 
rear platform beside the conductor. 

We were still a couple of miles from town, so, 
adjusting our packs, we set off down the hot and 
dusty road. We had not walked far when a teamster 
gave us a lift to our destination. 

The only possible camping place was beside a 
small stream in a group of trees at the south side of 
the town. While I made camp Dan went into 

[227] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Cheyenne. About dusk he returned, whistling 
cheerfully, with the welcome news of a job in the 
morning. He had also made a trip to the reserva- 
tion and delivered the note sent by our wayside ac- 
quaintance to his friend. This man sent us a little 
brown tent, made in two pieces with folding sup- 
ports for convenience in carrying. It is called a 
"dog tent" by the soldiers and formed a valuable 
addition to our equipment. It shelters two persons 
comfortably and is so light that I could carry half 
besides my usual load without serious inconvenience. 
For a week now I have had leisure to wash and 
mend our clothes and purchase a few necessities for 
the coming struggle with deserts and mountains. 
Work is too scarce and wages too low to tempt us 
to remain here in the hope of accumulating enough 
to take us home in proper fashion. 



[228] 



FO URTEE N 

July 24th, 
Cheyenne, Wyoming. 



FOURTEEN 



July 24th. Cheyenne^ Wyoming. 
Dan came in last evening quite disturbed over 
his failure to collect his wages on the completion of 
the work. He worked very cheap for this contrac- 
tor, who seems to employ many floaters, and now he 
is refused the little money that is due him. He went 
uptown this morning, and returned about four 
o'clock enraged and disheartened. It seems that his 
employer makes a business of hiring men who drift 
into town, at as low a wage as possible; then beats 
them out of the money altogether, if he can. At 
times some unfortunate, whose spirit is not yet 
broken, threatens violence, in which case a trip to 
jail and a month on the chaingang curb, if not cure, 
his desire for justice. When Dan hinted at re- 
prisals, legal or otherwise, it was suggested that the 
Cheyenne climate was wont to prove unhealthy for 
such as he, so it would be well for him to seek new 
fields while the going was good. Inasmuch as we 
have no standing in this community, besides pos- 

[231] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



sessing less than three dollars in cash, which would 
not go far toward lawyer's fees or bail money, it 
would seem that this advice, bitter as it is, should 
be followed. 



[232] 



F IFTEE N 

August 2nd^ 
Laramie, Wyoming. 



FIFTEEN 



August 2nd. Laramie^ Wyoming. 

A faint sunset glow illumined the dry, brown 
plain as we approached the grade west of Cheyenne. 
A pungent odour rose from under foot as we trailed 
through the low brush, and as we approached the 
track, the rails set up a low humming that steadily 
increased in pitch and volume. A glaring eye ap- 
peared in the distance. I had never attempted to 
board a train in rapid motion and was more or less 
ignorant of ladders, hand holds and other details of 
car construction, and the idea of leaping on the roar- 
ing mass that came thundering through the semi- 
darkness appalled me. Nearer and nearer drew the 
engine. The fierce glow of the furnace, as the fire- 
man laboured to fill the insatiable maw, gleamed red 
upon the gravelled track. Black smoke rolled from 
the stack and hung low in the quiet air. With 
laboured pants, like an exhausted leviathan, the 
great machine lurched past. 

Dan caught my hand and we ran beside the track. 
Car after car clanked by. The hammering wheels 

[235] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

seemed hungry for a victim. My eyes visioned the 
ghastly death of an unknown man, whose life had 
been ground out but a scant half hour before we had 
discovered the mangled remains. I saw myself, 
hampered with clinging skirts and weighted with a 
heavy bundle, clinging, slipping, falling between the 
ravening wheels, and a deadly nausea seized me. 
With a half stifled cry I turned down the embank- 
ment. Dan pulled and exhorted in vain. 

"It's no use," I said doggedly. "I just can't 
do it." 

The tail-lights of the caboose faded from view. 

''Well, I'll be darned," said Dan. "I never knew 
you were a coward." 

"I don't care if I am. It's better than being 
chopped to pieces under that train. I feel sure I 
should have gone under if I had made the attempt." 

"Nonsense," he replied. "Now we're in a nice 
fix. We can't stay here. We can't walk across that 
wilderness. And we can't catch a freight in the 
railroad yard on account of Jeff Farr. First time I 
ever saw you show the white feather." 

"Just you wait till morning and we'll see who'll 
show the white feather. I'm going to walk right 
into that yard, and Jeff Farr or no Jeff Farr, I'll 
board the first west-bound freight that pulls out." 
[236] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Jeff Farr, as all the hoboes know, is an officer, 
especially dreaded because of his drastic methods of 
handling vagrants, who makes his headquarters at 
Cheyenne. We had heard of him repeatedly, for 
his fame had spread even beyond Omaha, and his 
mere name was sufficient to strike fear in the stoutest 
heart. 

In a disgruntled mood, we plunged into the 
bushes, and without attempting to make camp, 
threw ourselves on the ground and slept. At dawn 
we ate a cold lunch and turned back toward Chey- 
enne. 

At the west entrance of the railroad yard, a watch- 
man stopped us. I pleaded our cause to such good 
effect that he turned his back and gazed into space 
as we scurried past. Two long strings of boxcars 
stood as though ready for the road, and as we ap- 
proached, a brakeman clambered from the top of 
the nearest and spoke to me. He had noted the be- 
haviour of the detective, so as soon as I explained 
the situation he motioned to the second string and 
told us that it was a west-bound train, already 
searched and passed by the detectives, and now wait- 
ing, under the guard of our friend the watchman, 
for engine and crew. 

Ducking across the trackj^we examined the long 

[237] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMANHOBO 

line of cars, but each was shut and sealed. In the 
middle of the train stood several gondolas, and in 
lieu of nothing better, we boarded one. Crouching 
down, we waited for the start with everv nerve at 
high tension. A pair of hands grasped the edge of 
the gondola. "Jeff Farr," thought I with a shud- 
der. A man's head appeared above the brim. With 
staring eyes, he glared at us for a moment, then, 
with an inarticulate grunt, dropped to the ground. 
The brakeman who had directed our movements en- 
gaged him in conversation. Another pair of hands 
came over the other side of the car. Again a vision 
of revolvers, handcuffs, courtroom and jail flashed 
through my mind. Again a man's head appeared. 

"Well, I'll be blowed — a woman I" he gasped, and 
disappeared from view. 

Then a third man appeared. He evidently knew 
what to expect, for he stared at us with a friendly 
grin. 

"The boys said they was a woman up here, but I 
thought they was kidding me. Say, you folks got 
nerve — sticking your head into the lion's mouth like 
this. Ever hear of Jeff Farr?" 

"It'll take something a whole lot worse than Jeff 
Farr to keep me in this God-forsaken hole of a Chey- 
enne," I replied. 

[238] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"They said you had grit. Hope you get through 
all right," he answered, as a jolt announced the ar- 
rival of the engine. 

"Off brakes," whistled the engineer. With gasps 
of relief we saw the buildings glide past, for we 
knew we were safe for the present. 

At the second station out an empty box car was 
picked up* and the crew transferred us into that. 
The strict laws against riding freights caused us to 
keep every opening closed. There was no ventila- 
tion, and as the sun climbed higher, we suffered 
severely from thirst, for in the excitement of depar- 
ture we had neglected to fill the canteen. Shortly 
alter noon the train stopped and we heard voices 
near at hand. The door was shoved open and a 
man's head appeared. 

"You can't ride in there. Come out at once." 

We leaped to the ground. 

"Clear out as fast as you know how. I don't 
want to run you in, but if anybody comes along, 
I'll have to, and that may mean a month in jail." 

After our Wood River experience, a word was 
sufficient to put us in motion, and as we struck off 
across the tracks, I glanced back and saw that we 
were in the town of Laramie. 

This little city stands in the midst of a barren 

[239] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

plain, ringed about by distant mountain ranges. 
Trees are scarce, and what few there are evidently 
belong to doting owners, so that it is difficult for 
travellers of our persuasion to find shelter from the 
broiling sun. On the south side of town a narrow 
gauge railroad meanders off across the flat, grey 
plain, and near it we found a few discouraged trees 
in an abandoned rhubard field. We made camp, 
set up the tent and cooked a much appreciated meal. 
As night came on mosquitoes swarmed about and we 
had recourse to a great smudge in front of the tent. 
About sundown I saw a tall, gaunt man walking 
slowly toward an abandoned freight car that stood 
on a rusty spur of the dinky railroad. As I watched 
his listless movements my professional interest was 
aroused, for I took him to be some unfortunate from 
the east in search of health. 

Next morning we went up town, Dan to hunt for 
work and I to buy some much-needed provisions. 
Dan was lucky enough to secure immediate employ- 
ment on some construction work at the Wyoming 
State University, located a short distance north of 
town. 

I learned from a neighbour that no use was now 
being made of the pie-plant that grew on the rail- 
road property, so I helped myself to a fine cooking. 
[240] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



Forced to abstain from fruit and vegetables so long, 
the rhubarb made an especial appeal to our palates. 
I also discovered a large patch of a wild plant, 
which, as a child, I had often gathered for my 
mother. She called it "lamb's quarter," and held 
the young and tender shoots in high esteem for 
greens. I now pulled a large panful and we found 
them a pleasant addition to our menu. As I worked I 
again saw the invalid, and that night the poor fellow 
was sitting on a pile of ties with his head in his hands 
when Dan came home from work. He looked so 
desperately lonely and miserable that I asked Dan 
to go over and talk to him and see if there was any- 
thing we could do to help. In a few minutes Dan 
came back. 

"The man is not sick. He's hungry," he said. 

"Hungry !" I cried. "If that is all that ails him, 
he must be starving to look as he does. Go and in- 
vite him here for supper." 

Dan returned with the ragged, pallid stranger, 
whose emaciated face was almost covered by a heavy 
brown beard. He took a seat on an old stump and 
ate what was offered him in silence. After the meal 
he filled the water bucket, carried dried dung to re- 
plenish the smudge, then set off toward the boxcar 
without a word. 

[241] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Next morning he sat on the ties as before. Again 
Dan called him over, and again he ate in silence, but 
on leaving he doffed his scare-crow hat. 

"Thank you very much," he muttered. 

That evening he appeared without waiting to be 
summoned and as he drank his cocoa, I saw Dan 
choking with suppressed emotion. No sooner had 
the man gone, after attending to the chores as be- 
fore, when Dan burst out. 

"Did you see what that chap did? He picked 
up the salt instead of the sugar (we keep both in 
cocoa cans) and put a heaping spoonful in his cocoa, 
and blessed if he didn't drink the unspeakable mess 
without a quiver." 

Next day our peculiar visitor came in rather early 
and stood awkwardly about, fumbling with his hat. 
Then with a shy, sidelong movement, he laid a fifty 
cent piece on our pine box table, and bolted away 
like a scared rabbit. A half hour later he came hesi- 
tatingly back, and prompted by Dan's questions, 
explained that he had spent most of the day chop- 
ping wood, for which work he had received the fifty 
cents. 

We had dubbed him Larabo for want of a better 
name, as a convenient abbreviation of Laramie 
Hobo, and that night he spent the evening beside 
[242] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

our fire. Emboldened by our acceptance of his piti- 
ful offering and encouraged by tactful questions, he 
told us his story. 

He was bom in Angel's Camp, California, some 
twenty-three years ago, and was one of those unfor- 
tunate children whose father must remain unknown 
and whose mother died at his birth, leaving him to 
the care of her sisters in shame. The lad grew up 
untrained and uneducated, despised by the children 
of decent parents ; and as he developed into a rugged, 
raw-boned youth, took up the work of a gold miner. 
He was not lacking in ambition, and saved his 
money with some vague idea of escaping the sins of 
his parents by migrating to parts unknown and es- 
tablishing himself in some business. 

At the age of twenty-one he had several hundred 
dollars in the savings bank, and set out for the east 
to better his condition. Farm life attracted him, so 
he hired out to a dairy-man. In course of a year he 
became very expert and, having saved his wages care- 
fully, in the fall of 1907 determined to start a dairy 
of his own. He rented a small farm, laid in a good 
stock of hay and arranged to buy a herd of dairy 
cattle. His idea was to make as large an initial 
payment as possible, giving his note for the balance 

[243] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and depending on cream checks to pay off the in- 
debtedness. 

The farmer from whom he was purchasing the 
cows took him to a money lender to arrange for the 
loan. When Larabo came to sign he discovered that 
the note ran but six months, and since winter was 
coming on with the inevitable drop in cream produc- 
tion he doubted his ability to meet the note when 
due. The banker assured him that the note could 
be renewed without trouble, if necessary, and ad- 
vised him that this short term note was in his favour, 
since it would enable him to pay off some of the 
debt in the spring and secure the remainder with a 
new note if desired, thus effecting a saving in inter- 
est. Thus persuaded, Larabo signed. 

All winter long he fed and tended the cattle most 
faithfully and they did well, but as he had antici- 
pated, the receipts from the creamery were insuffi- 
cient to meet the note. When he asked for the prom- 
ised renewal, the banker declared he could not do it, 
the times were too hard, money was scarce, some 
banks had issued script. If he failed to pay the 
debt, he would be sold out. The green, ignorant boy 
did his utmost to raise the necessary cash, but money 
was tight, as the banker had said, and a month later 
hay, equipment, cattle and savings were swept away. 

[244] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Penniless and discouraged, he started to beat his 
way to the gold mines of the west. He was brutally 
slugged at Cheyenne, and at Laramie was arrested 
and given thirty days in jail. On his release he ob- 
tained work as a dishwasher in a restaurant and 
there remained until he had saved twenty dollars. 
On his way to the station to take a train for the 
west he met an officer, who took his money and ran 
him in. The judge remembered his face and gave 
him a sixty day sentence. 

During this period he brooded over his experi- 
ences and on his release sought out the man who had 
arrested and robbed him and administered a beating. 
He was once more arrested and clubbed and sen- 
tenced as a habitual offender. When his term ex- 
pired, the chief of police ordered him to stay away 
from the business section of town under penalty of 
immediate arrest, and all officers, train crews and 
detectives were warned against him. Twice he 
walked miles along the western track and caught a 
freight, only to be beaten and thrown off. He was 
too feeble from abuse and confinement to cross the 
mountain wastes on foot, and at last resigned him- 
self to slow starvation in the rotting freight car. 
For five weeks he had averaged but one meal a day, 
earned by doing odd jobs around the outskirts of 

[245] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

town, and his wonderful endurance had almost 
reached its limit when we took him in. 

Daily he has come to the camp for breakfast and 
supper, and has revealed his gratitude for our atten- 
tions by many little helpful acts and a dumb show 
of affection like a faithful dog. 

Yesterday afternoon dense black clouds blew up 
while I was doing some marketing, and before I 
could reach camp the most severe hailstorm of my 
experience struck the town. I took shelter in the 
doorway of a cottage to escape the fearful pelting, 
but a woman appeared and sharply bade me be gone. 
I then stopped under a cow shed, but a man came 
from a near-by house and threatened me with arrest. 
Buffeted by the slashing hailstones, I struggled on 
to camp, only to find our little tent blown flat and 
covered with limbs torn from the trees by the storm. 

The clouds passed as quickly as they had come. 
The sun shone with dazzling brilliance but little 
warmth; the sky resumed its wonderful transparent 
blue; and in the rarefied atmosphere the distant 
mountain peaks loomed clear and sharp with a de- 
ceptive aspect of proximity. 

Despite the flood of golden sunshine the ground 

was still concealed by a liberal coating of hailstones 
as night fell. 

[246] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I had done all I could to make things endurable 
when Dan came in from work, but he thought it best 
to sleep in some bam on account of the intense cold. 
After seeking permission at four or five houses and 
meeting with curt refusals and even threats, we re- 
turned to camp and found Larabo feeding a rousing 
fire and busily scraping a spot clear of ice. Here 
we set up the tent and spread our thin blankets on 
the ground, while a cutting wind swept across the 
valley and threatened to tear our shelter from its 
fastenings. 

Dan's work was finished, so as soon as we had 
thawed out and eaten breakfast this morning he went 
to town to get a time table and see if something could 
be done for poor Larabo. We have decided to take 
a passenger train to the first small station west of 
here, so I packed our baggage for the journey while 
Larabo looked on disconsolately. 

Suddenly he whirled about and took to his heels 
and, glancing around, I saw a well-dressed man ap- 
proaching through the rhubarb field. He came di- 
rectly to me and began to talk about the recent storm. 
This led to some conversation concerning the Uni- 
versity and I told him that Dan had been working 
there. His eyes fell on Larabo, who was moving 
restlessly about some hundred yards away. 

[247] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"You should not allow that disreputable tramp to 
hang around your camp," the stranger said. 'Teo- 
ple complain that you are harbouring hoboes and 
criminals, and it is giving you a bad reputation." 

His words loosed the flood of seething indigna- 
tion that had been gathering strength with each suc- 
ceeding day. I described the heartless treatment ac- 
corded us by the townspeople; I told the story of 
Larabo, and concluded with a scathing arraignment 
and denunciation of the Chief of Police who per- 
mitted such outrages. As I paused for breath the 
stranger broke in. 

"I feel sure that the things of which you complain 
are mostly due to lack of understanding," said he. 
"Take this Chief of Police now. He is really not 
such a bad fellow. His intentions are good. Fact 
is, I'm the Chief. Some of our good people have 
been complaining and calling this a tramp roost, and 
have asked me to have you arrested or run out of 
town." 

"You don't look like the heartless brute that I 
had pictured, and I am glad indeed to meet you," I 
responded, "for now I feel sure that you will take 
poor Larabo up town and protect him while he is 
earning enough money to get away." 

With that I invited the Chief to have a seat on a 

[248] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Stump and we talked with mutual benefit and pleas- 
ure until Dan returned. The men were introduced 
and Dan explained that he had secured work with 
room and board for Larabo with a Socialist family, 
who would treat him kindly and vouch for his good 
behaviour. All that was necessary was for the Chief 
to grant permission for him to remain in town and 
furnish protection from official thugs. 

Larabo was summoned and came reluctantly. I 
bade him and the Chief good-bye as Dan went with 
them to see our protege settled in his new quarters. 
When Dan gets back we, too, will bid adieu to the 
rhubarb field and go our way with a satisfied feeling 
of work well done. 



[249] 



S IXTEE N 

August gth, 
Ogden, Utah. 



SIXTEEN 



August gth. Ogden^ Utah. 

One more step taken, and a nice long one, too. 
We left the passenger train that took us out of 
Laramie at the inevitable water tank. The first 
freight that passed we made no attempt to board, 
for excellent reasons. A number of hoboes were 
lounging about, and when this freight pulled in the 
crowd separated, some running one way and some 
another. 

As we walked down the siding loud sounds of al- 
tercation arose and a hobo came tearing up the path 
with a brakeman swinging a pick handle one short 
jump behind. The tramp dodged under the train 
and disappeared. A few yards further on another 
trainman with a heavy chain in his hands was mak- 
ing vicious cuts at a slender boy, who dodged nimbly 
around and over the cars, now here, now there. It 
seemed an inauspicious moment to make the acquain- 
tance of the train crew, so we returned to the wel- 
come shade of the water tank. 

Evening came. We cooked our simple meal and 

[253] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

prepared for the journey. It was perhaps nine 
o'clock when the heavy vibration of the roadbed 
announced the coming of another freight. We 
crouched in the bushes at the side of the track. The 
train jarred to a halt and in the light from the fire 
box we could see the hose being let down to the en- 
gine tank. 

Silently we drew near and made a hurried inspec- 
tion of the rolling stock. Only one car was open. 
This was a gondola loaded with some massive, black 
machinery. We swung our bundles over the edge 
and scrambled in ourselves. Pieces of machinery 
were heaped in a confused mass, but in one end two 
broad, curving bars of metal like huge springs fitted 
together in such a way as to form an elliptical en- 
closure. Hastily we opened a bundle and extracted 
an oilcloth covered blanket. Bundles, hats and can- 
teen were stowed beneath a projection. Then we 
wedged ourselves into the oblong space that scarcely 
afforded room for our bodies and tucked the black 
covering neatly over us. Hardly were we down 
when a "shack," as the hoboes call the trainmen, 
approached over the top of the train and with lan- 
tern in hand leaped from one piece of machinery to 
another, narrowly missing our bodies as he passed. 

Dan fell asleep almost immediately, but I was not 

[254] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

SO fortunate. My head and shoulders rested on a 
heavy piece of metal which vibrated and bounded up 
and down with the violent jarring of the train. 
Crowded as we were in the constricted space, I had 
no opportunity to change my position, so could only 
submit to the constant pounding with fortitude. At 
times it seemed that I could no longer endure the 
concussion at the base of the skull, which set up a 
violent headache, and also I was in fear that a shift 
of the great mass of metal might pin us down and 
perhaps crush us. But moving was out of the ques- 
tion, for the trainmen were constantly passing with 
lanterns and pick handles, and woe to the unlucky 
hobo who crossed their path. 

The night wore away, and as the first grey streaks 
of dawn showed in the sky the train entered a divi- 
sion point. Several men engaged in conversation at 
the side of the car in which we lay concealed. 

"Got any 'boes aboard this trip, Bill?" inquired 
a heavy voice. 

"Well, I've got a suspicion that we may have. 
When we stopped for water just this side of Laramie 
I thought I saw a couple scooting along the side. 
But we haven't been able to locate anybody. Better 
see what you can raise." 

The next instant a man vaulted onto the end of 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the car and sat on the edge, with feet dangling a 
scant twelve inches above my head. Dan was sound 
asleep, and I was in deadly fear lest he waken sud- 
denly and make some move or sound. The intruder 
carried a lantern, which shone palely in the growing 
light. 

"Here, Joe, gimme that lantern a second. I want 
to take a look in that refrigerator car." 

The seated detective passed the light to his mate, 
then leisurely placed his foot within an inch of my 
right ear, and stepping over our heads, made his way 
across the car. His pal peered into the open venti- 
lator in the ice chest of the car ahead, and a moment 
later both men jumped to the ground to greet the 
new crew. 

"All right, boys. No 'boes this morning. She's 
all ready to take out." 

The engineer sounded the welcome signal and we 
entered a new division. It was broad daylight be- 
fore I saw a trainman, and then a brakie appeared, 
coming over the tops from the rear. With a cautious 
motion I pulled the blanket over Dan, who still 
slept, and drew a fold across my own face. 

The brakeman advanced with a cheerful whistle, 
and his heel rang sharply on the iron projection at 
Dan's shoulder, who threw out both arms and raised 

[256] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

up with a cry. As Dan sat up, the brakie sat down 
with exceeding swiftness. The two men glared at 
one another and it would be difficult to say which 
had the blanker expression — Dan, who had been so 
rudely startled out of his sound sleep, or the brake- 
man, who had witnessed the apparition of a man 
rising out of apparently solid metal. The sight of 
their gaping mouths and bulging eyes proved too 
much for my risibles and stretching out my cramped 
arms, I burst into peals of laughter. My unexpected 
appearance seemed the one thing needed to complete 
the utter mental disorganisation of the unfortunate 
trainm.an. He was too far gone to speak, but gulped 
and gasped like a dying fish. Dan and I gradually 
eased our stiffened bodies out of our iron cradle, and 
by degrees the brakeman's wits returned. I at once 
got to work and soon had his promise to leave us un- 
molested. 

But we were not to remain so for long. The con- 
ductor himself came over the top — a new thing in 
our experience — and kindly, but firmly, told us to get 
off at the next stop. 

Thus we found ourselves in the edge of a fair- 
sized railroad yard, the name of which we made no 
attempt to learn, but contented ourselves with seek- 
ing a quiet spot where we could cook a meal and 

[257] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

rest. The back of my head, neck and shoulders was 
bruised black from the hours of pommelling, and I 
was glad to snatch a few hours of restless sleep. 
Dan prepared and packed a box of food, filled the 
canteen and made ready for the night's adventures. 

Just at dark we entered the railroad yard as a 
freight rolled in from the east. Dan told me to wait 
while he reconnoitred. Hardly had he gone when 
a man appeared at my side as though he had risen 
out of the ground. He held a pocket flash in one 
hand and a club in the other. 

"What are you doing here?" he demanded sternly. 

"Waiting for my husband," I said. 

Lifting the flash, he examined me from head to 
foot. Reaching forward, he tapped the box of lunch 
under my arm with his billy. 

"What have you got in that box?" he inquired. 

"Grub," I replied. 

"So ho! A box of grub and a roll of blankets. 
You look like a woman hobo." 

I admitted the charge and declared my intention 
of taking the west-bound freight. "And I suppose 
you are a detective hired to prevent that very thing," 
I concluded. 

"You've struck it," he answered. "That's . . ." 

He leaned forward and stiffened like a pointer dog 

[258] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

in the presence of a flock of quail. With wonderful 
dexterity he slipped the flash in his pocket and drew 
a revolver, then moved forward with the sinuous 
grace of a panther and as silently as a shadow. I 
heard the footsteps of several men approaching 
across the yard. 

"Haiti" barked the detective. "Throw up your 
hands. Keep 'em high now, and face the east. Now, 
beat it." 

I heard the sound of running feet, punctuated by 
dull thuds as the detective belaboured the heads and 
shoulders of the fleeing men with his billy. 

"Fo Gawd's sake, don't, Boss. Oh, Gawd. 
You're killin' me." It was the pleading voice of a 
negro, who seemed to be bearing the brunt of the 
clubbing. 

In a few minutes the detective came back, pant- 
ing. My blood was boiling. 

"You great big brute, you," I began. "Why don't 
you jump somebody who has a decent chance, if you 
must act like a devil?" 

"You've got your nerve, young lady, talking to 
me like that. Don't you know I can run you and 
your old man in if I want to?" 

"Oh, I suppose you could. But what makes you 
want to be so cruel? You don't look like a brute." 

[259] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"Weil, maybe I am too rough, though that is what 
I'm hired to be. Besides, some yeggs broke into a 
building in a little town up the line about a year 
ago, and when me and my mate tried to run them in, 
they shot my pal dead and winged me in the shoul- 
der. Since then I club all hoboes on general prin- 
ciples." 

Just then I recognised Dan's step as he came up 
the yard. The detective made a forward movement, 
but I seized him by the arm. 

"That's my husband coming, and you better let 
him alone. If you start clubbing him, I'll fix you, 
pistol or no pistol." 

"Let go. I'll not hurt him." 

He bounded forward, and intercepting Dan, ques- 
tioned him closely. Then ordering him to remain 
where he was, he returned and questioned me. Then 
he summoned Dan. 

"Well, people," he said, as Dan came up. "I 
guess I'll take a chance on you. If the conductor 
don't get wise and make a kick, I'll not see you when 
you get aboard that cattle car yonder. So long." 

Hurrying over, we climbed in just as the train 

pulled out. As I peered through the slats in the 

front of the car, I saw a hobo make a running leap 

into the gondola immediately in front of us. A soft 

[260] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

footfall sounded on the roof of our car and the de- 
tective leaped down beside the hobo, who scrambled 
madly up the end of the boxcar ahead. The men 
reached the roof almost together and for a moment 
seemed etched against the sky. The officer made a 
mighty swing with his billy at the tramp's head. 
There was a crack like a revolver shot, and the hobo 
pitched from the top of the rapidly moving car and 
rolled head over heels down the twenty foot em- 
bankment. Sickened, I clung to the bars while the 
train rushed on. 

The floor of the car was covered with filth, so that 
sitting or reclining was out of the question. To add 
to our discomfort a storm blew up and the cold wind 
and rain beat between the slats and chilled us to the 
bone. As we slowed at a siding a low, mournful 
sound came to our ears, and we found ourselves be- 
side a great cattle train. The poor animals moaned 
and bellowed in the sleety blast. Some were down, 
and I could easily picture their experiences of long 
hours without food and water, exposure to the broil- 
ing heat of the noonday sun in the crowded cars, 
followed by the night's cold wind and rain. 

We were completely exhausted when morning 
came, and crawled weakly out when a brakeman 
ordered us off the train. Throwing ourselves in the 

[261] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

shade of boxcars that stood on a lonely siding, we 
were instantly asleep. The sound of voices wak- 
ened me and, sitting up, I saw a dozen hoboes scat- 
tered about. Some were east and some west-bound, 
but all agreed that this particular division was the 
deuce to cross. 

A freight rolled in and some boarded her, but did 
not linger long. With shouts and curses, the train 
crew plied pick handles and chains, and every man 
was beaten off. 

Some two hours later another freight hove in sight 
and we concealed ourselves in the high brush beside 
the track. The crew united to drive the crowd of 
hoboes down the line, and as the chase swept past, 
we hastened to examine the unguarded cars. In the 
middle of the train stood three cattle cars loaded 
with ninety-pound steel rails. These were piled in 
sloping tiers on each side, leaving a runway down 
the centre of the car. 

"Here's a good place, Dan. We'll lie down in 
there." 

"Good heavens, girl," he cried aghast. "If those 
heavy rails should shift in swinging around these 
mountain curves, there wouldn't be enough of us 
left to hold a funeral over." 

"I'm not particular about my funeral, if it should 
[262] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

come to that. I'd rather trust the rails than the de- 
tectives. Come on, I'm going in." 

Opening the end door, I piled in and lay down in 
the little runway. On either side the sloping heaps 
of rails rose high above my head. Dan closed the 
door and lay down also. 

The trainmen were too busy with the hoboes to 
disturb us, or they considered the rail cars too dan- 
gerous for the most daring adventurer, for we were 
left in peace. 

The rails grated and chafed as we rocked along. 
I took a look at Dan, who grew a trifle white about 
the lips when the rails shifted a little. I was full of 
content as I realised that we were making good 
progress, and laid my head on the bundle and slept. 

It was night and Dan was shaking me and whis- 
pering in my ear when I wakened. Staggering up, 
I gazed about, bewildered. Taking my hand, Dan 
led me out of the car, which stood on a siding, and 
across the tracks away from the lighted street of a 
town. 

"This is an awfully tough town," he said softly. 
"The rail cars were cut out here, and I went for 
fresh water. I never saw so much drunkenness or 
so many toughs in my life. We must get away be- 
fore morning if we possibly can." 

[263] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

A distant whistle announced the approach of an 
engine. A long train of tank cars clanked to a stand- 
still. We advanced hopefully, but not a car was 
open. The yard was dark and we chose a tank car 
close behind the engine. A narrow ledge projected 
in front, and on this we perched — feet dangling and 
backs close pressed against the end of the great cylin- 
der. The engineer and brakeman sauntered up and 
paused close by. The brakie carried a lantern in one 
hand and rested the other not two feet from my side. 
There they stood and talked while we alm.ost ceased 
breathing. But the deep shadow of the tank con- 
cealed us, and they separated, leaving us undiscov- 
ered. 

Then began the wildest ride of my career. That 
engineer seemed speeding to the bedside of a dying 
friend, or perchance, to some sweetheart who awaited 
his coming. The crest of the mountain range was 
past and the train shot like a meteor round shoulder- 
ing hills and through the steep ravines. The tank 
car leaped and plunged like a thing of life, threat- 
ening to leave the rails at each sharp turn of the 
road. Balancing perilously, we clung like limpets 
to the narrow shelf, while a wild thrill, born of the 
rapid motion through the mountain fastnesses with 
the night wind fanning my face, drove all fear from 

[264] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

my mind. I could have shouted with pure delight 
and felt that I need only will it and my soul would 
part company with all material things to soar to 
meet the stars that blazed overhead. 

The first flush of dawn brightened the sky as the 
lights of a good sized town appeared ahead. We 
gathered ourselves up for the leap. The train slowed 
and entered a long railroad yard. A group of men, 
lanterns in hand, stood at one side of the track, and 
as they caught sight of us, they set up a shout and 
raced for the train. A dozen cars swept past before 
they were able to board it, and we saw them moving 
forward around the awkward tank cars. A single 
glance identified them. 

"We'll have to jump quick before the brutes get 
anv nearer," I cried. 

The train was still moving at a lively clip as we 
leaped off. Catching our stride, we raced for the 
sagebrush on the right. The officers set up another 
racket, but apparently considered a chase hopeless. 

Circling widely, we came to a squat building on 
the outskirts of town. From within rose a hum of 
machinery and in the doorway stood the stalwart 
figure of a young man. He hailed us merrily. 

"Hello, there! Where are you going in such a 
hurry?' 

[265] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

We explained our plight, and he was good enough 
to come to our aid. 

We entered the power plant and watched the 
youth fetch out water, soap and towels for our con- 
venience. Catching sight of myself in a mirror, I 
uttered a cry of surprise. Coated with dust as I was 
from the long ride so close to the engine, I more 
nearly resembled a negress than a white woman. 
While we removed the stains of travel, the boy 
placed coffee pot and frying pan on a small stove in 
a corner and soon spread a savoury meal on the pine 
table. While we ate, he explained that he had the 
night shift at the plant and slept in the building 
during the day. He had a reputation for feeding 
every hobo who came along. Consequently, the 
officers might come there to look for us. Besides, 
the day man was not so charitable, so it would be 
well for us to be out of sight before he arrived. 

Leading the way to his little cubby hole of a room, 
he pulled the bed out from the wall so that it stood 
almost across the doorway, and spread some quilts 
on the floor behind it. Tossing our bundles out of 
sight, he suggested that we lie down and remain as 
quiet as possible. 

We were scarcely hidden when the day man ar- 
rived. Our friend complained of a sick headache 
[266] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

and said he had moved his bed to get more fresh air. 
He had darkened the room as much as possible and 
now threw himself down and feigned sleep. Three 
men approached the door. 

"Say, Frank," one began, "a couple of hoboes 
came up this way and we want 'em. You better 
come across now and tell us where they went. We're 
getting tired of the way you run a tramp roost up 
here." 

"Well, you've got your nerve, I must say. Can't 
a fellow get any rest from you fee-chasing scaven- 
gers ? Here I go to bed with a sick headache, and no 
sooner do I fall asleep than you come chasing hoboes 
and wake me up again. If you want any informa- 
tion, why in hell don't you talk to Harry'? Ask 
him if he's seen any tramps." 

"Sorry if you're sick, old man," answered one of 
the officers soothingly. "We didn't mean to disturb 
you." 

"Cut the bunk," growled another. "I want to 
know if you saw these bums'?" 

"No, I haven't seen any bums," shouted Frank 
savagely. "Furthermore, I want you pussy- footed 
bulls to clear out of here. I'm sick, and I want to 
sleep." 

He whirled over with his back to the door. The 

[267] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

officers stood about uncertainly for a few minutes 
and then we heard them tramping about the build- 
ing. When all was quiet, Frank thrust his head 
over the edge of the bed. 

"How was that for a stiff bluff ^" he chuckled. 
*'Your uncle Ezra is right there with the goods, ain't 
he, what ? See any bums "? No, of course not. The 
only bums I ever see are those bulls that hang around 
the station. And now that the fly cops have flitted, 
tell us the sad story of your young lives." 

So I took up the familiar tale and the lad listened 
with bated breath and sparkling eyes while I led him 
step by step across the country. On conclusion he 
told me of himself. He was a student in a technical 
school, utilising his vacation to gain practical ex- 
perience in his specialty of electricity and earn 
money for the coming term. 

As I lay prone on the floor, the intense pain of my 
bruised spine eased a trifle, and lulled by the hum of 
the generators, I fell asleep. Night had fallen when 
I awoke and both men were gone. I found them 
chatting busily, while Dan repacked our bundles 
for the journey and Frank broiled a large steak over 
the coals. 

"Fill up, sweet friends, fill up," quoth he, carving 
a huge slab of meat. "Ways are long, the steak is 
[268] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

fleeting, and the jail is not your goal. At least, we 
hope that it doesn't prove to be. So eat and be 
merry, for to-morrow you may be in Granger." 

Nothing loath, we fell to with great gusto, and 
while we ate, discussed the best method of getting 
out of town. We decided to take a passenger to the 
first stop, as at Laramie. 

As we started to the train, our host seized his hat 
and made ready to accompany us. 

"I'll just let the buzzers look after themselves 
while I give you the benefit of my powerful protec- 
tion up town. Those bulls won't be so liable to run 
you in because you're walking the streets without 
a thousand dollars in your pockets if I am by to 
testify to your noble characters. Then I know most 
of the boys who run out of here and I may be able to 
fix it so the freight crew will pick you up without 
any trouble." 

Thus we bought our tickets and said good-bye to 
our young friend while the officers glowered from a 
distance. 

Once more we got out at a barren flag station, but 
we hadn't long to wait. As the freight stopped, a 
brakeman leaped down and came directly to us. 

"All right, folks, we'll give you a lift and pass 

[269] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

you over the next division if we can. Get in that 
boxcar over there." 

In we crawled and rode in comfort the night 
through. Early next morning, as the train sped 
through a desolate wilderness, another brakeman 
climbed into the car. 

"How do you do?" he began. "We heard about 
you from the boys back there, and we'll see you as 
close to Ogden as we can. But you'll have to leave 
this car, as it'll be dropped next stop, and the only 
place for you is in an empty fruit car way up near 
the head of the train. You'll have to go over the 
top while she's spinning. Do you think you can 
make it?" looking at me anxiously. 

"Sure," I answered boldly, my tone implying that 
I had walked the tops of moving freights since the 
age of three. 

Strapping our bundles to our backs, we started. 
I confess to a peculiar sensation in the pit of my 
stomach as I trod the narrow plank nailed along the 
apex of the roofs, and jumped from car to car, while 
the train rocked heavily along, lurching around the 
curves, and the wild landscape rotated past on either 
side. But after the first few minutes the feeling 
passed and I was able to conclude the journey with 
all the sang-froid of an old hand. 
[270] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"After to-day, I'll be expecting to meet women 
brakies most any time. You'd make a swell member 
of the Union," volunteered our guide, as we settled 
ourselves in the fruit car. 

The day passed and the night. About four in the 
morning another brakeman appeared and roused us. 

"We will stop at Uintah about sunrise," he said. 
"You will have to go back to the rear of the train, 
and be ready to drop off as the train slows down for 
the station. Get away as quickly as you can, for if 
you are discovered riding on this train, the whole 
bunch of us may spend a month in jail." 

So I took another stroll along the swaying roofs 
and climbed onto the rear platform of the caboose. 
As the train began slowing for Uintah, we flipped 
off and bolted away from the track. 

After many miles of wilderness the fertile valley 
looked very beautiful to our tired eyes. Accustomed 
from childhood to an abundance of fresh fruit the 
year round, the restricted diet of recent months has 
told on me. Now berry vines, fruit orchards and 
vineyards reminded me of home, and we determined 
to buy a little fruit, fresh from the garden. 

Passing up a tree-bordered roadway, we came 
upon a long, low farmhouse, squatted at ease upon 
a terraced hillside, the brown of its unpainted 

[271] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

wooden frame blending with the russet hues of tree 
trunks and knotted loops of trailing grape vines. A 
fluffy maltese kitten with arching back scampered 
with sidelong leaps to meet us, then frolicked up a 
tree. Two dogs set up a racket and a winsome, dark- 
eyed girl came to the door. I asked for ten cents 
worth of raspberries. With a charming smile she 
led the way to the roomy kitchen, and taking down 
a bright tin pail, placed it in my hands with instruc- 
tions to go right into the patch and help ourselves to 
what we wanted. We busied ourselves among the 
tall, green canes, and as the scent of flowers and 
fruit came to my nostrils, it seemed that I had been 
transported to the beautiful spot where I was born. 

"At last I can realise that I am nearing home," 
said I, turning to Dan. 

On our return to the kitchen with the luscious red 
berries, the laughing maid met us, and set out dishes, 
spoons, sugar and a great pitcher of yellow cream. 
And what a feast we had ! Our hostess informed us 
that the first passenger train that stopped at their 
little station did not come through till nearly one 
o'clock, so while Dan roamed about the ranch, the 
little woman and I sat on the long veranda and got 
acquainted. 

With shy head hanging and many a blush, she 
[272] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

said she had been married but four months. Her 
husband, who was a Mormon, was then at one of his 
other ranches, where he stopped for weeks at a time. 
I surmised that she was not his first wife, but warned 
by her attitude, forbore to question. She told me of 
her limited opportunities and narrow horizon. With 
wistful eyes she listened to my descriptions of large 
cities. She herself had never been further than Og- 
den, and only twice to that metropolis. The fur- 
nishings of the house were crude in the extreme, and 
she confided to me her longing for curtains such as 
she had once seen in Ogden, and hoped to have a 
strip of carpet for the parlour floor some time. 

Suddenly she flung herself on her knees at my side 
and buried her face in my lap, while great sobs 
shook the slender body. She was all alone she said, 
all, all alone, and she was afraid. Her mother had 
eleven children and was always too overworked to 
listen to her daughter's nonsense, as she called it. 
I gently raised the child — she was but sixteen years 
of age — to my lap, and with tender words and pet- 
ting calmed the storm of sobs. When she could 
listen I advised her as best I could, and wrote a set 
of instructions to guide her in the coming hours of 
need. Poor little wild rose. I dread to think of 
what the future holds for her, so sensitive, so frail. 

[273] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Once more we took a train and soon landed in 
Ogden. Turning to the left, we crossed the river 
and came to a large cottonwood grove. Here we 
pitched camp and Dan took up the never-ending 
search for work. Last night he came home with a 
big watermelon and the welcome news that he was 
to start work on Monday morning. So for a few 
days at least I am free to rest and sew. 



[274] 



SE VENTE EN 

August 22nd^ 
On the Sacramento River. 



SEVENTEEN 



August 22nd. On the Sacramento River. 

Well, little book, my entries are almost finished, 
for the business of building a new niche in the world 
with nothing but our bare hands will leave scant 
time for keeping a diary. 

Dan had several days' work in Ogden. Then we 
took a passenger to the first stop west as usual and 
there boarded a freight. We had not gone far when 
a trainman thrust his head into the car in which we 
were riding, and failing to see me huddled in a cor- 
ner, accosted Dan. 

"Hello, Jack. What are you riding on?" 

"A union card," replied Dan, following the ac- 
cepted formula, and pulling the card from his pocket 
for inspection. 

"And what else?" queried the brakeman. 

"A dollar," said Dan. 

"Not enough, Jacko. It's two dollars or nothing 
on this division. Cough up." 

So Dan gave him the two dollars and the train 
moved out. 

[277] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

On the edge of the Great Salt Lake the freight 
stopped again and another brakeman leaped into the 
car. He gaped in amazement at sight of me, then 
turned to Dan, "You'll have to come through, old 
sport. This kind of baggage is worth a five spot. 
Come across now, or you'll have to swim the lake." 

"Here, Dan," I broke in sharply, as he hesitated. 
"Don't you give those petty grafters another penny. 
Let's get out." 

The trainman turned on us threateningly, but one 
good look sufficed, so we were left undisturbed be- 
side the track. We had heard more than once of 
trainmen who not only took money from hoboes, 
but also relieved them of Ingersoll, knife, or any 
little trinket they happened to have about them, but 
this was our first experience with the breed. 

With our bundles for pillows we slept through 
the night, and awakened at dawn when another 
freight stopped for a last drink before crossing the 
lake. We piled into a gondola just as the train 
gathered speed and felt that we would at least cross 
the lake in safety. We had not gone a mile when a 
trainman leaped in beside us. 

"What are you riding on, friends?" he inquired. 

"A union card," said Dan. 

"And what else?" 
[278] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"Not another blamed thing," Dan answered de- 
terminedly. 

"Well, that don't listen very good to me," the 
fellow growled. "Where did you come from and 
where are you going ^" 

While we gave him a sketch of our experiences 
and reasons for riding freights, he drew a stub of a 
pencil from his pocket and began scrawling on the 
back of a time table. 

"Loan me your knife a minute, old man," he said 
to Dan. 

Dan passed over the knife, a very fine one that I 
had given him the first Christmas after our marriage, 
and the brakeman sharpened his pencil. 

"W^ell, so long," said he, turning on his heel, and 
starting to slip Dan's knife into his pocket. 

I seized his arm like a flash and wrested the knife 
from his hand before he could recover from the un- 
expected assault. 

"No, you don't. Oh, no you don't," I hissed furi- 
ously. "That's my knife and I propose to keep it." 

"Why, you little hell-cat, you." He burst into a 
laugh. "I didn't mean to steal your knife. Gee, 
she's some scrapper," turning to Dan. "Wouldn't 
mind having a pal like that myself." 

[279] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

With another laugh he made his way to the rear 
of the train. 

A half hour had passed when we were amazed to 
see him coming over the top with a coffee pot in one 
hand and a pan in the other. 

"Thought maybe you might be hungry," he said 
with an embarrassed laugh, as he set the pan of 
boiled meat and doughnuts on the bottom of the 
car. As he bolted toward the head of the train, we 
attacked the food with ravenous appetites. 

We were so engaged when a man leaped from the 
boxcar behind, landing in the gondola with a clatter. 
I looked up into the amazed face of the conductor. 

"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "Well, good Lord, 
so this is what old Tight-wad was up to. What have 
you done to him anyhow^ Hypnotised him*?" 

"What are you talking about*?" asked Dan. 

"Why, that front brakeman of mine. He's the 
meanest cuss on this division, bar none. He'll hold 
up a 'bo and pry the gold out of his teeth. I noticed 
him skirmishing around in the caboose a while back, 
and he acted so blamed mysterious that I had to 
come up front and see what in blazes he was up to. 
Well, I'll be jim s wiggled if ever I expected to see 
old Tight-wad pulling any charitable stunts." 

The conductor proceeded to ply us with the usual 
[280] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

questions, which we answered to his entire satisfac- 
tion. 

"There's an empty refrigerator car up ahead," he 
declared, "that is billed straight through to Sacto. 
She's locked all right, but the ventilator in one of 
the ice chests is sealed open, and you can slide in 
there and lie snug till you land in Sacramento." 

Swallowing the last drops of coffee, we followed 
him over the tops to the fruit car. Sure enough, the 
little door that covered the hatch at the end of the 
car stood open, the support bound with the lead 
seal, which must never be broken except by the 
proper officials. 

Gathering my skirts closely about my ankles, I 
slid into the opening feet first, and catching the 
edges with my hands, swung inside the ice chest and 
let go. Dan followed, and we found ourselves in 
peculiar surroundings. The floor of the cubby-hole 
was formed of scantlings laid on their edges, with 
wide interstices for drainage. There was scarcely 
room to move and the only light entered the little 
opening high above our heads. As I gazed upward, 
I felt caught in a trap. We curled down on the 
grating and resigned ourselves to fate. 

As the sun climbed the sky the heat increased, and 
it was then that we noticed that our canteen was 

[28l] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

empty. Nobody came near. We dared not show 
ourselves. So the day passed in great discomfort. 
Night fell and we slept fitfully. Morning came and 
again the sun blazed down on the desert wastes and 
the tortures of thirst became intense. 

We had been twenty-four hours without food or 
water when Dan decided to risk a reconnoitre. Tak- 
ing the canteen, he swung himself up to the hatch 
and thrust out his head and shoulders. A brakeman 
came on the run. After considerable parley he took 
the canteen and promised to fetch us water at the 
first stop. But the afternoon wore away and he 
failed to appear. We were almost insane from thirst 
and heat when at last he lowered the dripping can- 
teen into our prison. 

In Winnemucca the car was shunted back and 
forth for an hour, but at nightfall we were off on 
the long climb to the summit. I climbed hand over 
hand to the hatchway, and after a cautious survey 
of the surroundings, drew myself out and perched 
on the roof of the car. The Overland Limited shot 
past, the roof covered with the crouching forms of 
hoboes, thick as barnacles on an old pier. The deso- 
late expanse of desert seemed full of mystery, as the 
long train, dotted here and there with lanterns, 
crawled like a gigantic snake up the steep grade. 
[282] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Far ahead two engines coughed and laboured, the 
black smoke rolling in great billows from their 
stacks. As I realised that we were nearing the 
boundary of California a great contentment filled 
my soul. Thus I revelled in thoughts of home, while 
the cool night wind fanned my face and the Big 
Dipper swung across the northern sky and the speed- 
ing wheels clanked a cheerful refrain. 

Early next morning the brakeman made us a visit 
and said we would be in Sparks before noon, where 
we must make another change. 

Just outside the city limits we dropped off, and 
as guests of the trainmen were soon eating our first 
restaurant meal for months. About two o'clock we 
wandered to the outskirts of town, for it was useless 
to attempt to catch a freight in daylight. We came 
to an irrigating ditch lined with a tall growth of 
weeds, and slipping off our footgear, were soon pad- 
dling about like a couple of kids in the swift running 
water. Late in the day we cooked and ate a meal, 
took a farewell wash in the stream and returned to 
the railroad yard. Word had gone forth not to mo- 
lest us, so we boarded the night freight without 
difficulty. The onl}' available place was a cattle car 
loaded high with lumber. The end door was un- 
locked and there was quite a space between the piles 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

of boards and the roof of the car. I settled myself 
in a corner with back against the siding, and Dan 
lay at my feet. 

It was pitch dark when the train clanked through 
the streets of Reno. As we drew slowly out of town, 
dim forms appeared, and hoboes began piling into 
the car through both doors. In the darkness I could 
sense the presence of a large number of men. Two 
lads curled down at my right, their voices proclaim- 
ing their youthfulness. On the left two hoboes lay 
so close that I could have touched them. They had 
come from a long ride on a limited passenger and 
were completely exhausted. A group of men in the 
far end of the car began smoking, and as each match 
flared, some face would stand out in bold relief. 
They talked with perfect comradeship, and though 
they were totally unaware of the presence of a 
woman, there was little to complain of in their con- 
versation. In fact, I can truthfully say that I heard 
more profane language in one year's attendance at 
Medical College than on this entire trip. 

It 

At the first stop out of Reno still more men came 
aboard. A trainman came to the far door with a 
lantern, but one look sufficed and he returned no 
more. At Truckee the car was switched to a siding. 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



"Beat it, boys, here come the bulls!" shouted a 
hobo. 

Like dry peas out of a pod, the hoboes scattered 
out of that car and fled in all directions as officers 
flung open the door at our side and emptied their 
revolvers into the interior. We remained motion- 
less as the bullets thudded into the wood, and in a 
few minutes looked out to see the detectives chasing 
the fleeing hoboes across the yards. 

"Now is our chance," whispered Dan. "Make 
for the round-house yonder." 

We dived within the yawning portal and crouched 
within the engine pit. The place seemed empty and 
we sat in silence for a time. What to do we did not 
know. It was impossible to remain where we were 
for long; discovery meant a trip to jail and a month 
on the chain-gang for Dan. The town lies in a 
mountain fastness with snowsheds protecting the 
tracks, so that foot travel was out of the question, 
and our money was almost gone. While we studied 
the problem, a long freight came through without 
stopping. We ran out to the main track and the 
first thing that caught my eye was the familiar old 
refrigerator car with the open hatch in which we 
had already ridden so many miles. 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"Quick, quick I" I cried. "We must catch that 
train." 

The engine had cleared the yard and was gather- 
ing headway with each turn of the wheels. Racing 
madly beside the track, I made a desperate lunge 
and caught a hand rod. My arms seemed torn from 
their sockets as my body was snapped into a hori- 
zontal position by the speeding train. A moment I 
clung, unable to move, then with a fierce scramble, 
I found my footing and clambered to the top of the 
car. Dan had landed on the car behind and to- 
gether we started for the head of the train. 

A brakeman appeared on the top of a boxcar. At 
sight of a woman coolly parading the roof of the 
freight, his jaw dropped and he started so violently 
as to make me fear for his safety. We stopped on a 
flat car and gave him a brief explanation, then hur- 
ried forward and swung ourselves into the familiar 
ice chest, for we were nearing the snowsheds. 

The trainman soon joined us. He told a long 
story about some division official who was death on 
hoboes, and who made a practice of travelling up 
and down the line and pouncing on the train crews 
at unexpected places in hope of catching them in 
some infraction of the rules, which would enable 
him to indulge in his love of discipline. This marti- 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 



net took a special delight in harrying the men, and 
would suspend an employe for sixty days on the 
smallest pretext, or deprive a man of his credits for 
the slightest infraction of some unimportant rule. 

"He's a Company pet, who was born with the big 
head and then bitten by the efficiency bug," our com- 
panion concluded, "and if he should catch a woman 
on this freight it would be as much as all our jobs 
are worth." 

At that moment a man thrust his head into the 
manhole and called the brakeman out. He ascended 
quickly and his place was taken by the other, who 
proved to be the conductor. Dan started to speak, 
but was interrupted. 

"Let the woman talk. I'll get the truth from 
her." 

So I began the old, old story, and after a bit se- 
cured permission to ride as close to Sacramento as 
we dared. We were well outside the snowsheds 
when the conductor left us, and I settled down with 
the thought that the worst was over. 

As the train pulled out of a station the light was 
cut off abruptly and a young man in a business suit 
bounced into the ice chest. As he landed, I looked 
up and caught sight of the horrified face of the 
brakeman leaning over the manhole. 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

"Who put you in here? How much did you pay 
that brakeman to let you ride*?" he demanded 
fiercely. 

"Why, we haven't paid anybody — we haven't 
seen any brakeman. We just got in when the train 
slowed up back there a ways ; and we took good care 
not to see any brakeman or let any brakeman see 
uSj" I answered innocently. 

"But what are you doing here, and where are you 
going'?" 

"Oh, we came up from Sacramento for a little 
camping trip. My husband thought he could get a 
little work in the mountains, but he couldn't find 
any, and we spent most of our money, and then 
started to walk home. This old freight came crawl- 
ing along, and there wasn't anybody on the far side 
of the track, so just for a lark we slipped in here." 

"So, you're sure your husband didn't pay the 
brakeman for the chance, are you?" 

"You bet I am. Do you suppose anybody would 
pay good money for riding in this old hole? Be- 
sides, we haven't any money. I couldn't see any- 
thing wrong about riding, exactly. But, of course, 
we didn't want the trainmen to see us. I was afraid 
they might not like it, and I'm dead sure nobody 
but you knows we're here." 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

The brakeman's face appeared for an instant in 

the manhole above, then disappeared from view. 
"You're not going to put us off, way out here, are 

you*?" I asked pleadingly. "It's awful hard to walk 
clear down to Sacramento this hot weather, and 
carry these heavy bundles. It didn't cost the rail- 
road company anything for us to ride here. We 
ain't doing any harm." 

The young man's face softened a trifle and he 
launched into a long dissertation on the evils of 
jumping trains, the hobo menace, and kindred topics, 
to all of which I listened with wide eyes and bated 
breath. The train drew into a station and out 
again, while he was thus absorbed, and he made no 
move to put us off. I was drawing him on with deft 
questions and flattering attention when the brake- 
man's head appeared once more. 

"What in blazes is all this?" he bawled. "Hey, 
you bums, come out of there." 

Our kind instructor cast a startled look aloft. 
"Why, hello, Condon," he called ingratiatingly. 
"You are on the job, I see. But these people don't 
happen to be bums. Everything is all right. I'll 
assume the responsibility, so just trot along and 
leave us alone." 

He resumed his pompous attitude and took up the 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

delightful task of enlightening me on the importance 
of his position, which he declared was extremely dif- 
ficult to fill. I gathered that the destinies of the 
entire railroad system rested on his narrow shoul- 
ders; that he was the original efficiency expert; and 
that all other employes of the Company, from train 
boy to superintendent, were a lot of mutts, if not 
worse, and were it not for his constant supervision 
and stern discipline, the division would just nat- 
urally go to the bow-wows. The miles slipped by as 
I drank in this information with greedy ears. His 
chest expanded like a pouter pigeon and his hai: 
band seemed to stretch visibly. 

The three of us were standing in one end of the 
restricted space when once more the daylight was 
cut off and the conductor slid down beside us. Com- 
pletely ignoring our existence he turned a cold and 
hostile eye upon our companion. 

"Sir," he began stiffly, "I have been informed by 
a member of my crew that a high official of this 
division has taken it upon himself not alone to dis- 
regard the strict rules of this company regarding the 
carrying of passengers on freight trains, but has 
arrogated to himself the control and management of 
those directly responsible to me. Such a situation is 
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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

unprecedented, sir, and I hereby make formal pro- 
test against its continuance." 

While he was speaking I saw the shadow of a man 
pass the opening overhead. 

"But, my dear man," stammered the ''high offi- 
cial," wholly taken aback. "How can you make 
such statements^ I had absolutely no intention — 
no such intentions at all. How can you make such 
a charge?" 

"The facts, sir, speak for themselves. My brake- 
man discovers his superior closeted in the ice chest 
of a refrigerator car with a young woman and an 
unknown man. When he endeavours to exercise that 
authority with which he is vested by the rules of 
this company and requests the said young woman 
and unknown man to leave the train at once, you, 
my dear sir, impose the force of your superior sta- 
tion, and taking all responsibility upon yourself order 
him to 'trot along.' I claim that such conduct de- 
stroys efficiency and is fatal to discipline." 

Our young entertainer seemed at a loss for a 
reply; then he plunged into a long explanation of 
our presence and his intentions regarding us. The 
conductor listened with an air of undiminished cold- 
ness. 

"Very well, sir," he said shortly, at the close of 

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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

the harangue. "Your conduct is, of course, highly 
irregular, but I shall make no report of it — at least 
not at present," fixing the unfortunate "high official" 
with a piercing glance. "As to your er — ^guests, I 
shall leave the matter of their disposition entirely 
in your hands, since you have assumed the responsi- 
bility." 

The conductor swung himself out of the ice box 
while the young man turned his harassed gaze upon 
us. 

"You better get off at Auburn," he said weakly. 
"Climb out as soon as the train stops, so nobody will 
see you." 

As he clambered slowly out, the general impres- 
sion was that of a man about three sizes smaller 
than the one who had entered. 

We left the car the instant the train stopped at 
Auburn, but as we hastened away we were hailed 
with loud shouts by the train crew, who followed 
us on the run, headed by the brakeman. We stopped 
behind a row of boxcars as they joined us. With 
whoops and howls they slapped one another on the 
back, danced about, doubled up and fairly rolled on 
the ground in convulsions of laughter. 

"Say, didn't our old man hand that fellow some 
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THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

chunks of language*? Say now; didn't he*?" gasped 
the brakeman when he could speak. 

"He passed it out like a regular dictionary. Just 
the same kind of dope that Little Tom-tit has been 
feeding us on so long," sputtered the fireman, who 
it seems had left the engine on the way down to join 
the gleeful circle about the manhole while the circus 
was going on within. 

"Well, I guess I punctured his tire, all right," 
vouchsafed the conductor. "Guess he'll go a little 
easy on efficiency and discipline with this crew for 
a while." 

"I wouldn't have missed that performance for five 
hundred dollars," broke in the rear brakeman. "It 
was the richest thing I ever heard." 

"You should have heard Miss Innocence here 
stringing him along when he first came aboard. Her 
eyes kept a-glowing bigger and bigger, and his chest 
kept a-swelling and a-swelling, till I thought I'd 
bust. Oh, he was a wonderful man, all right, all 
right." 

"Well, boys," remarked the conductor, whipping 
off his cap. "You all admit you enjoyed a good 
show, that would have had a very different ending 
if it hadn't been for the quick wit of this gritty lady. 
Chip in now, and pay for your reserved seats." 

[293] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

Money rattled into the cap and despite our pro- 
testations the conductor forced it into Dan's hands. 
With quip and jest the men bade us good-bye, and 
we passed over to the main street in search of a res- 
taurant. Our hunger appeased, we marched boldly 
to the station and took a passenger train to Sac- 
ramento, where we made connection with the river 
boat for San Francisco. 

So now I sit on the deck of the steamer and watch 
the green and fertile country glide past. From time 
to time a signal flutters on the bank, the boat swings 
over and the crew rapidly loads great boxes of plums, 
luscious peaches, early pears, and crates of seedless 
grapes. Here comes a man with a truckload of mag- 
nificent Burbank plums. I once read of the little 
plum with the enormous pit, from which the Califor- 
nia wizard evolved this beautiful fruit. He did not 
attempt to change the nature of the plum to that 
of some transcendental fruit. He simply modified 
the environment so that the inherent qualities of the 
plum might develop. Would that the environment 
of the little children of the slums and sweat shops, 
to whom the meanest cull that lies in yonder orchard 
would be a gracious treat, might be so modified as 
to give their essentially beautiful, natural qualities 
an opportunity for healthy, normal growth. 

[294] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

I give a sigh of contentment and happiness as I 
realise that the hazardous journey is ended. And 
now I realise another fact. For weeks I have been 
free from colds or cough ; my digestion is superior to 
that of an ostrich; a ten-mile jaunt with twenty 
pounds of baggage on my back would be mere child's 
play. A more healthy human specimen than my- 
self it would be hard to find, so I feel free to dismiss 
the spectre of tuberculosis along with the other hor- 
rors of the slums. 

But physical benefit is not the greatest gain. A 
change has taken place in my psychology. My be- 
lief in the inherent kindliness and unselfishness of 
the human heart has been strengthened. In cases of 
cruelty I recognise an outside influence or pressure 
that warps natural instincts. Toward the trainmen 
especially I am deeply grateful. When one realises 
the risks they ran to aid a couple of outcasts, and the 
kindness and consideration so often manifested, a 
wonderful appreciation of their sterling manhood is 
born. Never again will I think it necessary to 
change human nature before we can improve social 
conditions. I am conscious of a deeper human sym- 
pathy; a wider vision; a greater understanding of the 
problems of the under dog and a closer sense of fel- 

[295] 



THE ADVENTURES OF A WOMAN HOBO 

lowship with him. I feel that I am learning the 
divine lesson of human unity, which is rooted in the 
Fatherhood of God and manifests itself as the Broth- 
erhood of Man. 



[296] 



